Coffee

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Coffee

It is 9:00 A.M. on a Monday morning. By this time, many people are out and about, fully charged. I am still snug in bed, sleeping like a log. The alarm begins to beep. I press the snooze button. Nine minutes later, it beeps again. I press the snooze. One more time. Beep. Snooze. Finally, pressing the button has drained my energy and the next time it begins to beep, it goes on for a good five minutes. The incessant beeping pounds on my brain so I get up, unplug my alarm, crawl out of bed, and to my closet. Thus, the struggle through the day begins. Yet, this morning picture isn't the same picture of happiness and energy that I usually am at about 11:30 A.M. This drastic change is due to one word. This one word brings light to the eyes of non-morning people. This

word means hope. This word is coffee.

I've become addicted to the frothy warm drink. Five minutes late to class, I still have to stop by the cafeteria to fill up a 16 oz. Styrofoam cup. Without it, my day is incomplete. It gives me the energy I need to get through the day. It told me to try and climb that tree. It gave me my jump. It gives me the bright outlook that I have on life. It tells me that everything will be just fine, even if I haven't studied for that exam that I will be taking in the next hour. I would be a walking zombie without my French Vanilla cappuccino. I would be lying on a bench, asleep, without my French Vanilla cappuccino. It's my one true love. When I smell its sweet perfume, m...

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