Snohomish County woke up to the sound of milk steamers cutting out mid-screech: Starbucks has shuttered five locations, unplugging the county’s IV drip with the bedside manner of a budget spreadsheet. Commuters stared into their empty hands, bravely pretending a steering wheel counts as a cup.

Corporate called it a ‘market realignment,’ which is CFO for ‘we looked at a map and circled sadness.’ As always, the realignment landed on the part of the map where people are.

Executives say the closures will help ‘consolidate experiences,’ a phrase that somehow folds a line, a scone, and your sense of belonging into one neat box labeled ‘synergy.’ I translate that as: fewer doors, same prices, more walking.

Local baristas, released back into the wild, were last seen forming a cooperative swarm and spelling out latte art in the sky like skywriters with rent. The green siren allegedly migrated north, where the water is colder and the margins are warmer.

In the meantime, the county set Google on fire, frantically searching barista-style espresso machine for home office like it was a lifeboat with a crema setting. Retailers reported a spike in purchases alongside an uptick in questions about whether beans can file for unemployment.

Officials proposed emergency measures: a foam reserve, a strategic pumpkin spice stockpile, and a bipartisan task force to ration oat milk without triggering civil unrest. The economic term is ‘Quantitative Teas-ing,’ where you announce liquidity and then steep in it mournfully.

Landlords assured everyone that new tenants will move in immediately, ideally a store that sells minimalism at maximalist prices. Real estate brokers whispered the phrase ‘ghost kitchen,’ and a cold breeze knocked over a pyramid of seasonal tumblers.

On the earnings call, leadership cited ‘traffic optimization,’ which is what you say when you put a traffic cone where a door used to be. I heard ‘we’re focusing on high-opportunity sips’ and ordered a venti-size reusable tumbler with passive-aggressive slogan just to feel something.

Local entrepreneurs are already testing an underground cappuccino speakeasy where the password is ‘pamplemousse’ and the cover charge is exact change. The first rule of Froth Club is you do talk about Froth Club, because word of mouth is cheaper than marketing.

Economists warn of a caffeine GDP contraction, measured in missed small talk and the audible sighs of people who wanted to work-from-cafe as a personality. If the multiplier effect had a face, it would need concealer.

Residents mourn the third place that became a second office that now feels like a first heartbreak. The chairs will sit stacked, like modern art about supply chains that forgot to RSVP.

Starbucks promised to monitor the situation, which I believe means refreshing a dashboard until the graph forgives them. Until then, consider it Quantitative Teas-ing: plenty of steeping, not much sipping.