By iamberenice on Skatehive
Greetings, my friends. I'm a writer, and that means, among other things, that I'm a creature of habit. I need routines so the day doesn't slip through my fingers, so the words can finally find their place on the page. And my main routine, the axis around which everything else revolves, begins with a cup of coffee. I love coffee. It's not a matter of intellectual posturing or refined taste: it's a matter of physical necessity and identity. I also like tea, I should mention. On busy afternoons, when the light shifts and doubts creep in, a cup of tea can be a welcome companion. But if you put me in the position of having to choose, of having to live with only one forever, I wouldn't hesitate for a second: I choose coffee. Tea is a whisper; coffee is a conversation. And I need that conversation from the moment I open my eyes. Every morning, before we even think about breakfast, my husband and I sit in the kitchen. The coffee maker has already finished brewing. We pour two cups, black and s