Emotional Support Coffee Novels & Stories

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He somewhat pleaded. "Don't worry, Sir. I'll help you out. I'll be back in an hour" I said, getting my bag in a hurry. "Don't forget, you have to order around 50 coffees because not only the shareholders but the people who come with them will also have it" He shouted while I walked out. I drive to my friend's cafe and order 60 coffees along with 60 cupcakes, 60 donuts and 60 pretzels, just in case.

I have no idea how many near impotent situations I have had with a cup of coffee earlier in life, but since she became my PA there have been way too many. But even if she is inadequate, I can’t seem to let her go. That smile she gives me in the morning when she walks into my office, with that scalding hot cup of coffee, lifts my day. I can’t seem to function without it. And I have heard from Barbra that she lifts the spirit of the whole office with her smile, easy laugh and those homemade cookies she brings every wednesday.

He is just here, in a car, holding a coffee, looking at the woman he is dating with the small, tired, very real look of a man who is here because he is here. I take a sip. It is the right coffee. It is the exact right coffee. It is the coffee I have been drinking for six weeks, the coffee with caramel drizzle and oat milk, the coffee that I described to him in a recovery room while on morphine, the coffee that he has been ordering for me, in paper cups, with foam hearts, in the small, private way that has become the entire thing. I lean back in the seat. I close my eyes for a second. I think: day one was hell.

I almost exclusively drank hazelnut coffee, so I found it surprising that Jackson kept it on hand, especially since he hated the stuff. “Thought you could use a little pick-me-up,” he said with a small smile, leaning against the counter. Jackson had always had a way of anticipating what I needed, even if it was something as simple as my favourite coffee. It made me feel cared for in a time when everything felt chaotic and out of control. “Why do you keep this stuff around if you can’t stand it?” I asked, taking a generous sip and savouring the nutty flavour. A comfortable silence filled the air as he shrugged, leaning closer to the counter with his arms crossed.

I just have a single-serve coffee maker since it’s just me and I have no need for a big pot. Storm leans against the counter as I make coffee. I buy my coffee locally since it’s better than many brand names out there. I just prefer to shop locally. The town supports my business, so I might as well support the small businesses in town. It’s my little way of giving back to the community I love living in.

Her presence now, in the aftermath of loss, was a testament to the strength of our friendship, a source of comfort in a time of turmoil. I could feel the tension melting away as the warmth of the coffee spread through me. Miranda's coffee always had a way of soothing my soul, each sip was a moment of respite in the chaos that surrounded us. Setting the cup down on the table, my mind drifted back to the events that had unfolded earlier, the close call that had shaken me to the core.

I almost laughed, we were not talking serious yet this feels good, saying everything without saying anything, is fun for real. “Why are you still drinking it then?” “Emotional support prop,” he said. “Holding something hot and bad makes a man feel like he’s coping.” “That tracks.” He set it down on the small table between us and looked at me properly for the first time since I walked in, and something in his expression shifted, the joke draining out slightly, replaced by something more careful. “Did he tell you anything?” he asked. “He told me a lot of things,” I said. “Most of them concerning.”

"But I'll love you even more if you bring that Verdanian coffee I like." I paused dramatically before continuing my desperate plea. "Nate hid all the coffee in the house and only lets me have one cup a day, Zoey. You know who I am without coffee. It's inhumane. Bring coffee, Zoey. For the love of God, bring coffee." Zoey was laughing so hard she could barely speak. "Relax, addict," she said between laughs. "I'll see what I can do. Maybe I can smuggle in a few capsules of your favorite kind."

LILA POV Tell me about coffee... People think it's just caffeine and warmth in a cup. A routine. A way to wake up. But to me? It's care. It's how I say, "You made it through the night," without fumbling for the right words. It's the quiet way I try to bring calm after chaos. Especially for him. Strong. Hot. Steady. Something he could hold when the rest of him felt like it was falling apart. After setting the meal on a tray, the beeping sound of my phone diverted my attention and I made to grab it. Staring at the caller, Ava. I inhaled a deep breath, hoping whatever was coming wasn't for the worse.