“There is nothing more invigorating, than the smell of fresh brew in the early morning hours, when stumbling out of the bed, half asleep. It is the only medicine for the cure of not being awake.” Gun Roswell

The early morning hours, never the easy ones for this sleeping ugly, because that is the correct word to describe the monstrous thing getting out under the covers and stepping their giant feet to the cold floor, nothing pretty to be seen, only scowls, snide remarks upon being dressed and worse remarks and quips if being asked. Surely, not a morning being, at all.

But, that will all change, once the medicined kicks in. And by that is meant, the one and only true healer, the saviour of it all, the one which can the biggest mountains make one move, and then to put on the daily groove, to any annoyed and sleep deprived person, the big uncooperative monster had just become during the night time.

Alas, the smallest scent will make the sleepy entity hell bent, on getting up and down stairs, bursting into the kitchen with nostrils flaring, taking a deep breath, inhaling the elixir of life, taking a sip, savouring the taste, then another soon to follow, until finally, the whole cup is drained of the darkest of brews, and then only, will do, a conversation or any other query, if feeling daring, as this is just the first cup, after all.