Is it the smell, the absolutely unabated breath of morning freshness peeping through the cup’s brim which gets you started; It can also be the sudden rush to get things moving in your otherwise slightly peevish, slightly turtle-like 9ams. My mom used to despise excessive use of caffeine but it was quite easily nullified as I sat with my grandfather, in our own spirited chumminess, to enjoy the morning coffee.

I was not addicted. I was captivated.

When bad hair days’ pop up out of nowhere and you just strive to make it to the finishing line, then something pulls you out, in a sprightly manner from all that was stuck. It helps you to get over the spilled milk and still have a smile on your face.

It’s like the coffee makes a grand entry in you, and ideas begin to move like the true-blue unfailing army of the Grandest battle ever unveiling all that was promised to be treated very gingerly.

With coffee, things remembered arrive at full gallop.