Slow Burn Coffee Novels & Stories

There wasn’t a need to make it more bitter with coffee. On the other hand, the second set of memories belonging to Zen Taro argued with his usual preference as a chef. The third young master of the Taro family liked his coffee thick with only one sugar. In fact, there was a particular coffee that the teen enjoyed in-game when he played a coffee-making game. Cold-brew was the new trend, and that coffee contained no sugar.

Little Miss Spitfire bursts through the door again, her face pulled up in a tight grim. I am sure she is trying so hard to not scream at me. She bounces forward, stretching the cup in the air. I grab it and take a sip. “Good one.” I say, and continue typing. The coffee tastes great; the right amount of sugar fits in. Coffee is dark and bitter, but with enough sugar, it covers the bitterness so all that remains is just the sweet savour on your tongue. “Sugar is healthy.” Her voice chirps in my head, her smile flashing through my memory.

I already feel stupid enough. When I finally pick the shot with the most smiles, I take another sip of my coffee to discover “cooling” has officially become “cold.” Perfect timing, I guess. I’ll go grab a new cup from Bean and Gone. I email the picture to the editors, stand, and head through the warren of folding-wall cubicles as students start to trickle in after class.

“I love this. What's the name?” “I haven't thought of it yet.” He blushed as he made another glass for me. “Since it burns a little when it slides down the oesophagus and warms your stomach, let's call it the sweet burn sensation?” “Doesn't that make it sound like a pain medication?” I teased as I took the second cup from him. “What about Inferno's kiss?” “Inferno's kiss? I love the name.” He grinned. “We can use it then. Inferno's kiss. I love it.”

He gestured to her mug still sitting on the dining table. She glanced at it with a grim look on her face. "Forgive me. There's a one hour Eucharistic fast that I must keep. I forgot about it." She finished her sentence with a cute blink at him. "Oh," he took a sip of his coffee and nodded, "perfect." He nodded again. "But I checked on the internet and it said cold coffee can be used to make smoothies, ice cream, and a whole lot," she continued innocently while he drank his coffee.

He sat back in his chair, leaning enthusiastically toward him. “How is it? Don't worry, I've reduced the caffeine in this coffee when I make it, so it shouldn't be a problem for you. Drinking coffee once in a while will give you no harm, right?” ***

Arjun opened his mouth to argue but closed immediately when he thought it is of no use. "I don't like it. It's so bitter." He said with a pout, looking down. "Okay. I will tell your mother. She already messaged me. And, no coffee for you." Neal said taking the cup. "NO!" Arjun squeaked taking the coffee from Neal holding it close to his chest. "Fine. Just.....don't tell Ma." He whispered the last part. Neal nodded his head, and went to kitchen before coming back with his own cup. They sat in silence sipping the coffee occasionally.

Jennifer was startled. Her tears did not stop from falling as she tried to speak, through it, “I I I… can explain, I I tried t..to make the coffee as you asked. But this machine is different from the one we have at home. Usually, I...I need to press a button, and coffee is made. I tried to make it, and next thing I burned my hand and accidentally hit the mug, then coffee just started going everywhere, so I unplugged the machine.” She said, aggrieved.

“Are you here to mock my work ethic or confess a felony?” He hands me one of the cups and flops into the armchair by the window. “Neither. I was bored. You looked like you could use caffeine.” I squint at the cup. “You bought me coffee?” Julian shrugs. “I also considered doing shots at ten in the morning, but this seemed marginally less self-destructive.” I take a cautious sip. It’s exactly what I like. Down to the oat milk and the stupid sprinkle of cinnamon I always pretend I don’t want but secretly require like air.

I stood staring at the expensive coffee machine like it had personally offended me. “This is humiliating,” I muttered. “It’s coffee, not public execution,” Olivia replied from the doorway. Easy for her to say. She wasn’t being professionally bullied before 9 AM. I carefully prepared fresh coffee for the team, trying not to let irritation ruin my focus. If Zion wanted attention to detail? Fine. I’d give him detail. Perfect measurements. Fresh brew. No mistakes. By the time I carried the tray back into the office, I had almost convinced myself this wasn’t embarrassing anymore.