On nights like this, when I’ve been in the house by myself all day, I have a craving for something. Not just for a taste, but an experience, among the lights and the shadows.
A while ago, I found the right place with the right ambiance. A place without the distractions of my house. Where I can write without thinking of what other work I should be doing.
I always tell myself that I’ll go tomorrow. It’s always tomorrow (the same day that most diets start). So I force myself to get in the car and drive.
When I walk in, I have to remember the nomenclature. Tall means small, grande means medium, venti means large.
Along with this craving comes a thirst for something sweet and warm to drink, harking to the days I lived unemployed, and my favourite thing to do was drink all sorts of strong coffees and teas. My stomach will pay for this later.
The cups always feel nice in the hand. Maybe I’m a sucker for good design — the pure white, the clean lines, the textured insulating sleeve with prominent corporate logo.
Sometimes, I need to go out to be alone. A warm drink is company enough.