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Two Scorching Coffees
They are the only ones who fends off the sleep. I am the only one who drinks them. Two scorching coffees with snow white whipped cream and strong espresso shots. Two who invigorate my body, but leave me craving more. Two little addictions wrapped in Starbucks sleeves. From my cubicle, the steaming pot whispers my name, but no one else hears it’s calls.
Their aroma taunts me. They send jitters up my spine. They take their toll and leave me feeling like a wet noodle come 3 oclock. This is how they hook me.
To forget the sweet and savory tides of warm elixir would be a travesty. Drink, drink, drink they stimulate my organs. They revive.
When I am too exhausted and too lazy to get out of bed, when it’s too difficult to hold my eyelids up, then I look for the nearest Keurig. When the desire proves too strong. Two brewed flawlessly. Two rushes of caffeine. Two mugs of coffee and coffee.
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