“There is always time for coffee, no matter where and when you are running, coffee, in the run, of course!“ Gun Roswell

Coffee, on the run

The coffee break does not read the time on the clock, ticking away, tick tock, too loudly, as a moment or few had passed, without a cup on the side, and so, there was now a great big gaping hole where the coffee used to go, a size which could only be filled with the strongest kind of concoction, the kind where even a spoon would melt in, and so, it was totally a large kind of sin, to go such a long time not consuming even a drop of the stuff, which made life somewhat worthwhile, and perhaps even that faint smile onto the grumpy old face, as nothing else really these days could, but now, on the run, not the morning jog type rather fighting through in the rat race, trying to keep the head above the water’s edge, and without constantly tipping into the coffee jar, it was impossible at best, and so, taking a mug filled to the hilt, a large one at that, consuming it while moving forward in a good pace, the coffee helping on this difficult race.