It was a warm gush of caffeine that engulfed my senses, rudely awakening my rushed train of thoughts.
On a cold, quiet night in November, sitting alone at a cafe in the heart of town.
On a cold, quiet night in November, sitting alone at a cafe in the heart of town.
Coffee.
Oh, where should I start? Should I describe the joy in watching a barista brew a warm cup of coffee?
Or how I like seek comfort in escaping to a quiet coffeehouse, armed with my favorite novel and a MP3 full of John Mayer and Kodaline? Maybe this form of escapism has developed my love for caffeine, to fulfill my need for a rush of warmth, one that I can only dream of receiving on a cold day.