Coffee-House Travel
Full moon. Where’s my cup of coffee? Sprucing up might help me rejuvenate. My word! Dad growling again. He relentlessly shoots down everything I utter. I would never swear at him, but this is the last straw. I must find the round cup. A trip back into my parents’ again, partly down to the dramatic rise of coffee prices. Still cash-strapped. Yet to find the cup. We’d argue all day when I was a teen. The odds of a journey back to square one seem a long shot, I gather. My cup? I’ve just started feeling under siege. He loves tracking me down, but this time I might stage a coup! I crave my coffee. Should I retaliate? I could bring this conundrum to mum’s attention, but it’d mean passing the problem on to her. Not fair! Can’t figure out where my cup is. She’d back me, of course. I’ll just accept my usual retribution. Not until I find my cup, will I feel tucked up in bed with that Colombian taste on my lips. Oh! I’m 55 today. Happy birthday. Let’s stand trial!