Novel & Cerita Slow Burn Coffee

Placing the cup in front of Caruso, she smiled proudly and announced, “Freshly brewed coffee made by me for you, sir.” Her desperation was laughable, cartoonish even. “Thank you, Willow,” Caruso replied, his grey eyes speckled with mild surprise, as he closed the mug. Had they forgotten that we were in a meeting, and not some gifting party? “You are welcome, sir,” She replied, then held out a small sachet, “Organic sweetener made by me in case you don’t want dark coffee.” “I will pass on that.” Willow replied, to which Gwen nodded.

he seemed to want to force me to quit, which made me feel completely angry. I went back to my office and called Solange again. I explained to her what had happened. She was silent for a second and then sighed. "Alpha Bennett likes his coffee dark, unsweetened, and with little milk." She again explained the process to me in an annoyed tone. As soon as I hung up the call, I tried making the coffee again. This time I added the exact amount of coffee Solange had mentioned, hoping that idiot wouldn't dump it on me again.

I reached down and picked the cup of coffee once again, pouring in a mouthful into my mouth and swallowing it down in the blink of an eye, the hothess of the sweet creamy liquid had of course, burned my tongue even more, but it was nothing I couldn’t handle, and so I drank down another mouthful after a few moments had passed, savoring the taste of this particular mouthful and holding it in my mouth for a few seconds, before allowing it to slide down my throat slowly. I placed the cup of coffee back on the counter and started to send a text message to Ryan and Ethan at the same time, signaling for them to come into the house since I have some things to inform them before leaving for work. I p

The next morning, the peace is shattered by a crime against humanity. I walk into the kitchen at six, already dressed for a meeting with the Commission. I need caffeine. I need the sharp, bitter bite of a perfect espresso to jumpstart my brain. I walk to the La Marzocco machine on the counter. A piece of Italian engineering that is worth every one of the many, many pennies it cost. I freeze. The settings are wrong. The grinder dial has been moved to coarse. The water temperature is set to 195 degrees, not 201.

I frowned as I brushed off the bad thoughts, I turned to Bella Gardener. “Did you have a fight with Terrence? He doesn’t usually leave you like that,” she said fast. “I only had a small problem yet, I’ve solved it well.” “Is that true? Then let’s have a chat in the backyard?” Bella Gardener made an offer. I nodded and agreed because in the backyard there is a beautiful bamboo pond. I nodded and followed Bella as I sipped the americano from my cup. Americano does have a thicker taste than regular coffee. And it seems this coffee is very good for business people who are under stress.

The morning coffee at the DUMBO warehouse didn’t arrive in sleek, thermal carafes delivered by a corporate catering service. It was ground by hand in a loud, mechanical burr mill by Kenji, whose supply-chain optimization codes now factored in the precise roasting profiles of small-batch beans from Red Hook. The aroma of dark espresso and toasted chicory cut through the industrial scent of floor wax and soldering flux, creating a heavy, grounding atmosphere that felt entirely distinct from the sterile environment of Vane Tower.

Maybe this was the wrong decision. "Confidence? Good. Prove you’re worthy of being mine. Mine don’t run when struck. Mine don’t whimper when scalded. Prove it." Srukk! Scalding coffee poured from the top of my head. Hot. Thick. It ran down my face, into my eyes, dripped from my chin onto my torn shirt. The smell of burnt sugar and bitterness filled my nose. I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t.

No, I thought to myself, it definitely wasn't the coffee. I raised the silver handle to place the coffee pod in the machine. The coffee maker was certainly getting a workout this week. The entire office was staying late trying to catch up on the Dallas Disaster in addition to their regular workloads. Coffee pods were becoming rare commodities. There was a used K-cup inside, and so I reached in and grabbed it. The empty cup was still hot from the last user and it burned my fingers. I hissed, more from surprise than pain, and flung it into the trash.

Lin Shannel brewed coffee, added a cube of sugar, and seasoned it with milk, before picking up the mug, lifting it towards her lips, and drinking slowly. Just her everyday routine, morning coffee, but why in the hell did it hurt so badly? Why did the liquid substance feel so old? So worn out. She sighed. She couldn't do this.

In the end, someone said softly, “Ms. Blake’s burns are similar to the freshly boiled water one…” Bonnie nodded. She said the same thing as the doctor when Luna brought Joshua to the hospital that day. “Because they had to consider the customers drinking coffee, coffees are usually not brewed at boiling temperature…” Fiona’s expressions turned ugly instantly. She bit her lips and glared at Bonnie angrily. “You cannot judge it like this! The coffee that burned me the other day, the one that I brewed for Ms. Luna, I used freshly boiled water! That is why I was burned like that!”