The burst into her nostrils was rich and acrid and voluptuous and libertine. It turned on something inside of her. She reached out to touch them. Luxurious dark beans bathed in sensual oil, they were the fruit of some distant plant, gathered by unknown mystery people in forests far away and unfathomable.  But she did not care about those plants or those people. She cared only about the teasing rush of anticipation in her mouth.

 The pleasure of this international luxury grabbed at some secret section of her mind, and her tongue, and her nose.  The electric memory of the not-so-mellow piquancy of its brew, and the flowing soft relief that followed the first, the second, the third sip. The magic chemicals of the flavor, boosting again, then again, her beaten down endorphins.

 The fragrance of the beans instantly jerked all these thoughts into the front of her brain, triggering fresh saliva to the tongue, fresh awareness to the eagerly waiting gut, fresh trembling readiness to the finger tips that would gently enclose the warmth of the freshly filled cup.

 Oh joy beyond wine, beyond chocolate, sometimes almost equal to water itself.

 It was singular thing, and could not be replaced with any other flavor. Only this, coffee, could renew and restore the deepest places in a person with the simplest of acts:  the sip.

2 Responses to “Coffee”
  1. Nina says:

    “Oh, joy beyond wine…” is to read your stuff, Ms. Seeley!

  2. Stephanie Golisch says:

    Love. It. “Beaten down endorphins….acrid, voluptuous, libertine…” Such sensual, precise, and evocative words you chose! You have beautifully captured the essence of coffee. Seriously, this should be on every travel website that mentions Portland.

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