the bane of my existence.

I will darken the door of your chamber far less from now on, foul temptress!

Available in different flavors and sizes and at all temperatures, coffee, for me, no longer provides the occasional midday warm-up on sluggish Tuesdays in February (inevitably, something to be spilled, ruining one’s favorite Henley as talisman against addiction).

Indeed, it has become a necessity; its absence triggering an afternoon headache only banished by a piping hot mug of the blackest, most potent sludge and the comments of coffee shop employees about how they expected me far earlier in the day.

Until I can sip the beverage with less obvious zeal and maintain a more casual acquaintance with local coffee dealers, I suffer my headache as a badge of honor that promises my deliverance.


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