2:30 pm; the soft bustle of the coffee shop, the soundtrack of roasting coffee

beans and vanilla, drowns the sour aftertaste of the afternoon.

6:45 pm; the sun starts to set, a narrow ray of light flashes through the shop, a

beam of unconditional warmth passes through the cracks of my hand,

falling into a puddle on the floor.

By now, sour drinks have been substituted for the decadent comfort of sweet

lattes and chocolat chauds to ease into the frost of the night. This time, there is a

saccharine syrup taste that envelopes my thoughts.

8:00 pm; less bustle, fewer customers, an ease of flow,

the aromatics of umami flavors invade the shop,

savory pastries fill display shelves, soothing soups occupy surrounding tables.

I watch as the steam travels, a stream of luminescent light in the darkening night

of minds and skies.

10:30 pm; dim lights illuminate the coffee shop as hot teas heat the cold empty

seats,

their floral, natural essence leaves in a state of contentment.

Earl gray teas, lush oolong teas fill the remaining porcelain cups, a taste of

satiable comfort.

12:00 am; sitting, idly in the lonely coffeeshop, warm mingles of aromatics lost in

the cold wind,

my coffee blows billows of steam.

I let it sit, fogging the window, a remnant of a once bustling collection of tastes,

sour aftertastes, decadent sweets, savory bites, neutral florals.

As I turn to leave, my hand searches for the cup of coffee, hoping to shield me

from the brittle loneliness of the store.

From outside the shop, the coffee sits, alone, on its porcelain plate,

the lights are off, the store, vacant.

Walking off into the cold, I finally let the bitterness consume me.