A love inspects the distorted promise
“My name is Justin.”
“Hello, Justin.”
“And I’m addicted to coffee.
“I’m not-uh, not totally sure how this works; this is my first night. Do I just? Okay, I’ll just start then.
“I had my first sip when I was thirteen. You know how you do. Just a half a cup, no more. Home sick from school, parents leave for work and don’t empty out the pot. Curious? Sure. Mom and Dad raved about coffee enough; everything from “Don’t talk to me before my first cup, dear,” to “A morning without coffee is basically sleep,” or the famous “I swear if you drink that last fucking cup, honey, don’t bother coming home unless you want to sleep on the goddamn lawn tonight.” It was the morning ritual. Everything revolved around talking about the coffee.
“It felt adult to be pouring a cup of coffee. I paused and then fished my…
View original post 837 more words
caringforfamily 