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Good Vibrations By Nadia P.
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I run my fingers through the beans, their creases shimmer like heavy eyelids
closed in anticipation. Their hardness slick with oils revealing a most
glorious pungent smell of sweat and seamen. Each one shimmering like a
bodybuilder before a competition, I scooped them up.
The steel spoon rustles
in the bag like lustful teenagers shuffling in the woods. Carefully I
measure, slide them into the grinder and close the lid. A vibration, like a
familiar friend, slips through my fingertips and up my arms. I clench my
teeth and close my eyes. They dance in circles, the blades cutting to a
powder, their smell fills the air of my kitchen.
I pull back the lid and
pour the grind. My kettle with painted flowers is a clever disguise for the
hot steel it is. Steam rises, followed by a scream.. Its time. I pour the
water and watch the grinds swirl about. Waiting, eyes fixated on the deep
brown, as the grinds slowly become exhausted and sink to the bottom.
The
glass sweats, I plunge the lid milking the flavors from the grind. I
pour the liquid into my mug, wrap both hands around it and bring it to my
mouth pausing for just a moment to smell the fruits of my labor. The hot
bitter liquid fills my mouth, and burns through me.
Another good morning.
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