I clutch the china between my hands.
Shiny and smooth.
The warmth from inside warming my cold blood.
I inhale deeply.
The sweet smell of a drink so precious.
I feel my insides quake with want and anticipation.
Eyes closed, I wait.
This is the closest I come to feeling like a god enjoying the rarest of wine.
I take a sip.
Hot, bitter sweet liquid falls on my tongue.
Thousands of thirsty wells filling to the brink as I savor the taste.
My tastebuds rejoice.
I moan low in my throat.
Its worth the wait as the machine grinds and brews it.
Its the drink of lesser gods.
It slithers into the crevices of my insides.
Waking my slumbering soul.
Nerves snap to attention.
The cobwebs in my mind start to clear.
I’ve only drank half a cup.
All is right again.
This is my moment.
To seat here and reminiscence.
I’ve done well so far.
I’m at peace.
I take another sip.
My palms are hot now.
My insides are awake.
This is the drink of lesser gods.