You drink your coffee in everything but a coffee mug. I find myself rising before the roasted smell of “wake-me-up” and earnestly sitting down at the table, awaiting your arrival of bed head and rubbed-red eyes. You drink your coffee in everything but a coffee mug. Taking shot glass of warm, steamy caffeine. Spooning it one teaspoon of smooth, blackness at a time. My cereal bowl, the flower vase, the dresser drawer- anything that you can get your hands on and will allow the ground-up and percolated scent to waft up to hit me in the face. I can’t stand the taste of coffee, but I enjoy watching you drink your coffee in everything but a coffee mug.