I’ll never forget the first moment my lips touched you. It was that morning I was stressed out about my English exam. I was so worried, I left much too early, so I arrived at North Campus long before class began. I tried to nerd-out and go to the classroom, but the previous class hadn’t even ended. I needed somewhere to go, so I ended up at Jimmy’s Coffee House. It was the closest place with the chairs and tables needed for last minute panic reviewing. I couldn’t just sit there without buying anything, so I bought a coffee. My first coffee. You. I was so stressed, I didn’t even remember how people said you were gross without a bit of cream and sugar. I took you back to my table just as you were, black as night. After opening my notebook, I raised you to my lips. So warm, you were. And how smoothly you went down my throat. You blanketed my every vein and built a slow-burning fire in my chest. I forgot all about my exam as I studied you instead. You were strong but smooth. Rich but not heavy. And after you were half gone, I felt alert and confident and ready for my test. And I hadn’t even reviewed a word. I took you with me to the room. Right before entering, I took a final sip of you. I placed the empty cup in a trash can and went on to ace my English exam.
Coffee, since that day, you’ve inspired me to get up in the mornings and saved me from piercing headaches and warmed me on cold winter days. I love you, Coffee. And I thank the universe every day that I was once a neurotic 20-year-old girl who rushed to class too early and landed in a chair at Jimmy’s Coffee House. Where I found you.