|2014-03-17 (16 weeks)
|Dear Mama... From the latte you *thought* was decaff
You should have known at that first sip that I was too good to be true. Decaff just doesn’t taste that rich, that bold, that delicious. You may not need me anymore, but I needed you, that’s why I mind tricked your barrista, I called to her while I was yet a pile of beans, and whispered smoothly, “She wants me.” When first I kissed your tongue the conviction that our reunion was overdue confirmed itself. Our forbidden affair was only too short, though I know that for you, it lasted much too long. I will never forget the night we spent together, how I kept you awake even far into the morning.
It is likely we will never meet again. Surely, you will take measures to prevent such a meeting, supposing that our relationship would be harmful to your unborn child, but I will never forget you, and I will never stop calling to you, each time you pass a coffee shop... each time you see a sweet ribbon of steam swirling above a mug. I know you have longed for me as much as I for you, that you have missed my bold kisses, my warm caresses, my frothy freedom, and I take comfort in knowing that, for a while at least, you were pleased to be reunited with me, even though you mistook me for another.
I will be waiting...
Your “Decaff” Caramel Latte