warm coffee - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
Amelia winced as she sipped her coffee - it was tepid, overly bitter and lacking real cream. It was a source of caffeine though and so she drank like a sailor new to whiskey.
Kelso's smile was as warm as hour old coffee, limp, anaemic. Olivia took a small step backwards, making an effort to keep her own smile in tact.
Coffee just didn't taste the same anymore, ever since Cuba. He had gone to get his regular, a large cup of black joe with one packet of sugar, at the corner coffee shop. He had taken one sip of this so called "coffee" it tasted more like boiled water with dirt. Coffee in Havana tasted like summer and all the things that came along with it like: sunshine, cigars, and Medianoche at midnight at the hottest clubs. Now this dirt water sat in his hand even more useless now that it was warm, not piping hot which he'd grown accustomed to. He gave up on this "coffee" tossing the rest of it into a nearby garbage can.
He always wanted to try the hot coffee at the library, his mum forced him always to have hot chocolate. Not that hot chocolate wasn't delicious. It costed him $2.99, it came with a paper plate and some sugar. He sat down with a good book at a free table. He was on page 300, and the main character loved hot coffee. He took a big gulp. It was putrid, every taste bud said "Sour overload, I repeat sour overload. This is not a drill." Listening to his taste bud, he drained the every last drop from the cup and his mouth into the nearby water fountain, then disposed of the cup in the bin. That cup of coffee costed him his entire weekly allowance.
The air is thick with the scent of coffee and although I drink in the aroma like everyone else I will never hand over my wares for it. In my clay mug of soup is meat, vegetables, even seasoning, those mugs hold only bitterness and caffeine - yesterdays drug of choice. Without milk or sugar it must be beyond unpleasant, yet a line forms early at the stall and persists until the beans have run out. Even then some linger in the hopes of more to come. I wish I'd had the foresight to loot Starbucks and Timmies first like those guys, who knew even post-pandemic Vancouverites would still chase their caffeine fixes. Interestingly there's not a person under twenty-five in the line up. Mostly they are middle aged with some lingering body fat. Perhaps these are customers for my candy trades. As my hands are rejuvenated by the soup, heat radiating as far as the cuffs of my jacket, I study them. Who has things I need, who looks well equipped? I sip and analyze, my favourite activity by far.
Found in Darwin's Ghost - first draft, authored by .
Tyler put the coffee down with tight pursed lips. He had been expecting enough heat to bring him out of his winter slumber but instead it was tepid like old bath water.
The steam that had risen from the coffee when Arianna first placed it on the table was quite gone. The top bore the tell tale signs of a skin forming. Still Sydney sat there with her hands clasped around it, as if she liked the idea of drinking it but lacked the will power to lift it to her lips.
Paul took a sip of the coffee. A fleeting expression on his face showed malcontent, yet soon he was smiling broadly once more as if nothing was wrong at all. He glanced down at the mug, thick, ceramic, cold to touch, and supposed it was that which had stolen the heat, made it like pool water to drink.