Vienna Roast

The mid-morning sun breathed warm streaks of light that highlighted a wisp of her smile. Seated on an old cedar porch swing, the sole of her gold T-strapped sandal glides through the wooden floor. Her body feels the gentle kiss of the wind that gives her cold jitters. She takes her last sip of Vienna roast in her red frosted mug, savoring the lingering taste of coffee on her tongue.

Her smile melted into a frown as her eyes looked down on the empty mug. She remembers how thrilling it was to create the perfect roast using the last handful of beans she had but only after her last sip did she find out that something went wrong in between. It didn't complete the first crack, and there was no way she could redo the process using the same beans again.

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