Coffee: Response

I began to make that cup of coffee that I always seem to need these days. I knew just how to make it: not too sweet, not too bitter, with just enough cream to hide the sharpness, but not cover the flavor. Yes, I knew just how I wanted it.

She never made my coffee the way I wanted it.

It should've been simple. Hot water boiled in the kettle, my favorite coffee grind, sugar, and cream mixed in one cup.

I put the water in the cup and filled it halfway with water. that's how she said she did it. (I used to do it differently: put in the coffee and sugar first, then fill it with water. Somehow, that always left undesirable bitter detritus at the bottom of the cup.)

I stirred until the coffee and the sugar were dissolved.

I added the rest of the water next, making sure to leave some room for the cream.

I stirred again.

I added the cream until the cup was filled almost to the brim.

I stirred again.

A bit tedious, sure, but it was simple, really. Anyone could do it.

I stared at the coffee. It was a bit dark. I took a sip. It was too strong and there was too much sugar. I found myself frowning.

She always did make my coffee better.