Coffee: a love story

My love affair with coffee went suddenly cold today.

We have withstood many trials, coffee and I. Lectures from the moralising and recently decaffeinated, iron deficiencies, the realisation that at $4 each day for a year I was $1460 further away from my next escape. Upset stomachs and sleepless nights couldn't separate us. Wikipedia's entry on coffee that noted the discovery of rodent carcinogens in roasted coffee didn't put me off for more than a few hours. I always went back.

In the end, it was the barista that killed my buzz. After I had shared a happy moment with a latte today, I got up to leave the caffeine den. I paid at the counter, said thank you and good bye and the brooding barista turned around and mouthed across the machine, 'I love you'. Usually sarcastic, he seemed devastatingly sincere.

I love(d) coffee. He makes great coffee. (Apparently) he loves me. But, this inner-city girl doesn't worship at the temple of the barista. I'm in it for the caffeine.

T2, here I come.