We got five left.
Five. You know what that means right?
No I don't.
Well, 5 more cups of coffee until you begin to write again.
But I'm stock out of coffee.
Well pick your own. Pick it all and it shall be yours.
How do I know if it will work? It didn't work on Tommy or Sue. Yet Sarah nor Claudes.
Trust me on this, 5 cups of coffee will help you succeed.
I'm scared. Hold me.
Not now for the coffee hath brewed. Seeping through the purcalator. Down it's vessels and into the fresh pot. Stir in your milk. Your sugar. Your soy. Your sweet and low. Stir what you must. Bump elbows with the best. And on top goes thy lid.
They come to and fro, from lands only heathens shall know. Places never been before, on yonder, in the dusk. This dark bean masks a musk. Breath it all in, the aroma, the principle. For nothing matters more in this being of time. This shroud of temporality. This veil of space. That's what coffee here is about.
And forever on this day, no matter what head office plagues, on Christmas eve down by the bay, you'll get three coffees free in this domain.
Gg
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