That First Sip....
....of fine coffee....
I enter the coffee shop, admiring the various photos and art of ecclectic, unmatched styles. A little bit of everything is here; no artist could be uncomfortable in this mish-mash collage of surroundings. The clicking of keyboards, the occasional creak of an unstable old wooden chair, and low conversation are the music of the place when no guitarist is available. Familiar scents wrap themselves around me and kiss me like lovers welcoming me home. The lighting, subdued by happenstance and not intent, lends itself to the gentle movement of the smells; you can almost see every piece of the bouquet gently floating in a slow current about the room. The odors are of that lovely black beverage in its various forms; steamed milk and sandwiches lend their flavors to the smell of the place. The scent is warm, and brown, and hazy. It is a scent of comfort and welcome; of stretching, yawning, and smiling gently.
My body instantly relaxes in this familiar scene. I feel tension slipping away as I order my brew and take a patient seat in one of the rickety chairs at a slightly slanting table. Long-haired hippies and short-haired geeks each take their comfort in their own selves or in the company of a friend or two. Do they notice my lazy scrutiny? Do they wonder if I notice theirs?
Ah, and now, now -
That first sip. I smell my cup; it is perfect. The straw I grabbed is now stuck into the liquid; I wonder how many people in my life have thought it bizarre that I drink a latte with a straw. Closing my eyes, I curl my lips around the end of the plastic tube and tense for the sting of the heat on my tender mouth. In slips the coffee - and oh, oh, how lovely a sensation! The first sip is small; just enough to permit a full appreciation of the complexity of the stuff. It is like the first kiss of a new lover; tiny, tender, nervous, and just long enough to gently sample the sensation.
I hold my cup for a while and let the taste consume my senses. It is a feeling of being in a moment rather than just passing through time. My moment will last as long as it must. When the flavors have calmed, and made my soul at peace, I open my eyes again.
The spell is subdued, but not broken, as I open a book and claim the second sip.
EDIT:
Oh ye gods I HATE it when my iPhone "corrects" my spelling and causes me to perform apostraphe abuse!!!!
I enter the coffee shop, admiring the various photos and art of ecclectic, unmatched styles. A little bit of everything is here; no artist could be uncomfortable in this mish-mash collage of surroundings. The clicking of keyboards, the occasional creak of an unstable old wooden chair, and low conversation are the music of the place when no guitarist is available. Familiar scents wrap themselves around me and kiss me like lovers welcoming me home. The lighting, subdued by happenstance and not intent, lends itself to the gentle movement of the smells; you can almost see every piece of the bouquet gently floating in a slow current about the room. The odors are of that lovely black beverage in its various forms; steamed milk and sandwiches lend their flavors to the smell of the place. The scent is warm, and brown, and hazy. It is a scent of comfort and welcome; of stretching, yawning, and smiling gently.
My body instantly relaxes in this familiar scene. I feel tension slipping away as I order my brew and take a patient seat in one of the rickety chairs at a slightly slanting table. Long-haired hippies and short-haired geeks each take their comfort in their own selves or in the company of a friend or two. Do they notice my lazy scrutiny? Do they wonder if I notice theirs?
Ah, and now, now -
That first sip. I smell my cup; it is perfect. The straw I grabbed is now stuck into the liquid; I wonder how many people in my life have thought it bizarre that I drink a latte with a straw. Closing my eyes, I curl my lips around the end of the plastic tube and tense for the sting of the heat on my tender mouth. In slips the coffee - and oh, oh, how lovely a sensation! The first sip is small; just enough to permit a full appreciation of the complexity of the stuff. It is like the first kiss of a new lover; tiny, tender, nervous, and just long enough to gently sample the sensation.
I hold my cup for a while and let the taste consume my senses. It is a feeling of being in a moment rather than just passing through time. My moment will last as long as it must. When the flavors have calmed, and made my soul at peace, I open my eyes again.
The spell is subdued, but not broken, as I open a book and claim the second sip.
EDIT:
Oh ye gods I HATE it when my iPhone "corrects" my spelling and causes me to perform apostraphe abuse!!!!