The coffee ritual had begun; grinding, boiling water, placing the filter inside the cup, just so. It was almost a meditation to begin a day. Each step practiced to perfection. Not a ground spilled, not a drop of water wasted.
...and that first sip.... That's the moment that gets you out of bed in the morning. Deep roasted creamy with a hint of sweetner that she'd been trying to kick for years but couldn't.
Yes... This is how mornings begin.
Coffee and jazz in the darkness, with only the city lights reflecting off the sky.
At this hour it doesn't matter if the day will rain, or if it'll shine.
Soon the morning will wake, the sun will climb sleepily over the mountain and reach to the Pacific, waking everyone on its way...the cars and busses will begin their Tuesday morning routine and today will seem just like yesterday.
She often wonders if we would even be able to tell one day from the next without phones, watches, clocks, jobs.... Is there a place in the world where days of the week don't matter?
She wonders how people survive their own dark mornings without coffee and jazz....mmm good morning Tuesday...
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