Coffee Letters Novels & Stories

His tone grew small, "You used to love the coffee I made you every day." I quirked my eyebrow. "I'm pretty sure coffee is only discovered by the fifteenth century after christ was born," I said confidently, "And you said the cycles have started even before christ was allegedly born. It doesn't add up, demon." I crossed my leg just to prove a point. "True," he answered calmly, "When I said 'you', I didn't mean Renee. From Crishella to Anastasia, all of you always loved the coffee I made."

“Vanderford, do you drink coffee?” “Do you have tea?” “You don’t even know what she drinks?” Reef asked in a whisper. “Why are you whispering?” Linden asked him, making another omelet. He put in a good amount of grated cheese. Once he was done, he garnished it with chopped herbs. “I don’t wanna offend our guy here,” Reef replied. “I drink coffee.” “See? She drinks coffee,” Linden chuckled a little. “Strike, she’s here,” Reef announced. “Let her come in here.”

Another coffee. Hands held longer. Truth deepening. No rush. But unstoppable. Coffee dates disguised no more. Something real blooming. (Word count: 1100) Ready for Chapter 33?

The attachment was titled: Alpha Jeremiah’s Preference Manual. I clicked it open, expecting a brief list of allergies or meeting styles. Instead, a massive spreadsheet filled my screen. I saw words like ‘vanilla’ and ‘cinnamon’ and ‘dark roast’ scattered across the cells. I realized I was looking at a technical manual for a cup of coffee. The instructions were intense. It wasn't just about the beans. It was about the temperature of the water, the exact ratio of cream to sugar, and the fact that it had to be hand-brewed. No machines.

"It's a date." "It's a family dinner." "Same thing." "It's absolutely not the same thing." "Agree to disagree," he said, and stole one of her grapes before she could stop him. --- Wednesday morning, there was a coffee cup waiting at her locker. Oat milk latte, still warm, with her name written on the side in Cole's unmistakable handwriting. She picked it up, turned it over. There was a note on the back: *For dealing with Derek. And for being you. — CW*

“Coffee. Black. I didn’t know how you took it, so black was the safest option.” The coffee was still hot, and it tasted like it had been brewed hours ago and reheated. It was the worst coffee Julian had ever had. It was also the first gift anyone had given him in the past seventy-two hours that wasn’t medical or mercenary in nature. “Thank you,” he said. She made a small noise not quite a laugh, not quite dismissal. “Don’t thank me yet. You haven’t actually done anything. Coffee is cheap. Results are expensive.”

I got my books out and started studying while enjoying the coffee. I will wait till they close, so I can speak to the owner. After a couple of coffees, it was midnight. I had been studying in the café for hours without realizing it, Charles called me a couple of times and I shut my phone to focus on studying. I also saw Dustin and this girl from my Maths class working here. I covered my head with the hood of my jacket, so they couldn’t see me. “Do you want anything, Lavi?” Dustin asked as he stood next to the door.

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Amelia stepped aside, but just as Evelyn reached for the door, she spoke again. “Oh—right. I almost forgot why I came.” Evelyn paused, turning back with clear impatience. Amelia reached into her bag, pulling out a sleek black box with a subtle designer label. She held it out with a bright smile. “I haven’t seen Rom—Mr. Sinclair in a while,” she said lightly, deliberately correcting herself mid-sentence under Evelyn’s stare. “Although we still keep in touch. He once mentioned this coffee, so I had it imported from Europe about a month ago.”

Carter. It reads, (Coral, buy a cup of coffee and a cake from Heaven Tea and deliver them to the Walter Group. Make sure they are well prepared.) This cafe is the most high-end in X city, with a single cup of coffee costing over 200 dollars. It was far more high-end than Starbucks. Seeing this message, I was stunned for a moment before exclaiming. “Holy shit! Mr. Carter sent me a message and it’s a handwritten message!” Hearing that, Mike also came over and asked, “What’s the matter? What instruction did Mr. Carter give?”