Coffee is dear to my heart. It began at a young age, tasting my mom’s coffee ice cream for the first time. Then I worked at a coffee shop for two years and one thing led to another. . .
I’ll just get into it. Because as soon as I finish this post, I get to run downstairs and get free, you-know-what warm delicious goodness from the hotel lobby.
This hotel is wonderful.
There is nothing better than a post we can all relate to.
And what is more relatable than the idiotic moments we share? It’s quite sweet, really. Inspirational and touching, the universal language of making a fool of ourselves.
We have ALL been there. . .
I scootched my chair aside to make room for Beth at the table. She smiled and squeezed in, placing her plate beside mine, followed by her cup of coffee. Morning bible study went on. We ate sugary French Toast casserole and giggled over upcoming weddings, when Beth gulped a swig of coffee and quickly covered her mouth.
“Oh no! Did I just drink your coffee?”
A woman across the table nodded. “Yes.”
I realized then that this was directed toward me. Me. Slowly, I laid my fork to rest against the side of my plate.
Beth had drunk from my coffee.