Cooper pulled up outside the single-story brick structure, eased into a stop and pulled the parking brake. He turned the key back towards him and picked up his travel mug, pulled the liquid through the little hole with a powerful slurp. Already the coffee tasted funny, that lived-in plastic flavor of all travel mugs past their virgin state. His kids had gotten him one of those fancy glass mugs, the kind coated with impact-proof rubber, but he'd left it somewhere. He only ever seemed to keep track of the cheap ones, the kind they give a person at a rest-stop when they buy enough gas. Maybe he wasn't keeping track of them, maybe he just had enough of them it seemed like he never lost them.