City bound I need my energy I stumble to the back of the train to find the canteen. I crave that familiar electricity that I long to run through my veins.
“And for you Miss?” a deep crisp voice asks.
Never underestimate the potential of a good cup of black coffee. Without sugar and heavy cream there are notes that present themselves almost like when Chopin streams out of my speakers. It starts off slow and builds and builds until the hair on your arms applaud with a standing ovation. I prefer a dark roast and make it strong. I like my coffee like Chanel liked her clothes: minimal. There’s something elegant about simplicity. Remember the hats of the past that were stuffed like chickens with feathers and oversized bows? Hats that a woman could hide behind; their true beauty disguised, and covered up? Remove the hat and she feels naked, exposed, and vulnerable; alone she is real, natural, and honest; no secrets only truth. A truly well made cup of coffee needs not accessories because those who have nothing to hide: hide nothing.
“And for you Miss””
“Black? Nothing in it?”
“Nothing please” — I answer.
“Oh you’re a hard one. Thick skin eh? You should be a New Yorker”— he laughs
“I just like the taste black coffee”