Here’s the thing
I love coffee. I love that lip-scalding first sip. I love the flood of relief that fills my body when I finish a cup. I love the smell and the taste and the sound of a coffee grinder. I love that I don’t need room for cream because that just means more room for coffee.
But internets, fair and beautiful internets, getting coffee makes me sad. Waiting in line. The smell. Cream and sugar. I miss the suits, the glamour, the strange piercings…all the diversity that comes with a downtown setting. Being sad about coffee is strange because who gets sad over something like that? Me, that’s who.
(Someone or something down here smells like cream cheese and onions.)
So I’m sitting here drinking the last of my Guatemalan (bold, smooth, chocolatey!) and thinking about the clack of high heels on tile, the crisp suits, the sleepy eyes, and a line out the door.
Today is a sad day.