SierraHensleyEnglish104s.,12:CompositionResearchRitassidaMamadouDjiguimdeWakeUpAndSmellTheCup

WakeUpAndSmellTheCup

Itis1:48pm.,onafrigidwhirlwindofaThursdayinMarch.Itookthelong

walkfrommydormtomyfavoritecoffeeshop,TheCup.AsIswingopenthedoors,

arushofwarmairandthesmelloffreshlymadecoffeeengulfsmyface.Behindme,

outside,customersminglewiththebittertasteofcoffeeandthetoxicburningof

cigarettesmokedriftinginthebreeze.

Theclosingdoornudgesmefurtherintotheshop,whilethearomaofcoffee

andfoodtemptmetothecounter.Inoticeabenchtotheleftofmeand,instead,

decidetositandwatchthecustomersflowinandoutoftheshop.Fragmentsof

conversations,betweenthecustomersandemployeesatthecounter,funnelintomy

ears.Ismileatafewpassersbyandreluctantlystandtoordermyselfabeverage.

Thelonglistofcoffeecombinationsoverwhelmsmytiredeyes,butonawhimI

choosethefirstoneIseeonthelist.Thecashier,slygrinandsteelyeyes,handsme

mychangeandswingsaroundthecornertoconstructmychosenjava.Afew

minuteslater,longawaited,heslidesmemycoffee.Ithankhimandwishhimagood

day,asIwalkdowntheramptothedesignatedareaforcustomerstosit.

Isingleoutatablepushedagainstthewallinthecornerwithtwochairswith

darkgreencushions.Iputmyblackbackpackunderneaththetable,securingit

betweenmylegssothatthosewalkingoutofthebathroombehindmychairwillnot

stumbleoveritastheyexit.Isetmycupdownonthetable’ssurfacetomyleftand

leandowntoretrievemyflimsymoleskinnotebookandbluepenfrommybag.I

clickthepenandbeginobservethespace.Itakenoteofthediversearrangementof

localartworkscatteredonallfourwallsaroundme.Theartworkisenergeticwitha

widearrayofpigmentsandbrushstrokes;themajorityofthemareabstract.

Onceagain,Ichannelinonseveralconversationsfromcustomersseatedat

thetablesandbooths.Iintuitivelynoticefamilies,friends,andsignificantothersall

gatherheretoshareTheCup’sone-of-a-kindcoffeetaste.Continuingmysearching

gaze,Ilocateacustomersittingaloneatatabledirectlyunderthewindow.His

featuresenhancedbytheglowofsunlight,heappearsfocuswithaslightlyfurrowed

browandhandsquicklywritingsomethingIdonotknow.

Idistractmyeyesfromthepeopleandblindingsunshiningthroughthe

windowandbecomemesmerizedbyabrownceilingfanthatisturnedonlowspeed.

Withoutnoticing,Ibegintohearmusicplayingdistantly.Bythehastybeatsand

hazylyrics,itssoundcouldbecategorizedasanindieoralternativegenre.The

musicandcaffeineinmycoffeegivemearushofwarmthandenergy.Ifinishup,

disposeofmycoffeedraineddry,andstepoutintothecoolbreezeagain.