The Coffee Vending Machine

On the 16th floor of a tall building or to be more specific, at an elevation of 77 meters from ground level, when the temperature is kept as low at 21 degree centigrade to protect electronic equipment from destruction, when goosebumps makes all your hairs rise up in attention, when you dream of cosying up inside a soft velvetty quilt, when you pull the zip slider of a pullover all the way up to the top stop and expects it to extend a bit further to cover your goddamn freezing throat, when you slide your left hand under your warm tushies to prevent them from dying like Jack, when you have no option than to leave the right hand to its fate of imminent death, when you feel like you are enduring all this for some numbers that increase every month end in your bank accounts of which you have lost track of, when you feel like an Eskimo living in an igloo – ask me who my best friend is and my answer would be “The Coffee Vending Machine”.

When it’s unbearably cold and when my body demands some warmth
I know there’s someone I can rely on for my needs henceforth
Rise and rush to my best friend at lightning fast speed
Conversations are trivial, hardly distracting and I pay no heed

Think of the flavours that my friend has to offer
Cappunchino and expresso, milk and some warm water
I keep my unfilled cup right under the nozzle
Flavour pick of my choice, wait for the sizzle

My cup starts filling with white creamy froth
Brewed coffee drops are added to make a broth
Then it suddenly stops to fill, wish there was more
I feel a dearth in the liquid to warm me to my core

I tease my lifesaver with a sachet of sugar
Followed by inserting a straw-cum-stirrer
I kiss the brim of cup while taking a sip
To keep the aroma lingering on my lip.

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