Writers Writing About Comfort Food: Coffee

Chicago Literati

The smell of coffee and with it comes a stream of memories:

I have had late night conversations on the nature of reality over a cup of this. I have lost my mind with one constant companion. I have met with a girl in a café, not sure if my slightly falling in love was due to her company or the magic stuff I was drinking. Perhaps it was both. It is my welcomed addiction, my aid when I feel uninspired.

As I write this, I sip a latte watching the words write themselves with ease. I have been wondering lately what will become of me, what will become of my future, or if it will become anything. The air is cold and nothing else warms me in times like these. I welcome the warmth in my hands, the warmth I seem to be seeking from life, but is always…

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