An Ode to Coffee Shops

By: Shayne Jones

Dear valued (coffee shop):

I didn’t know what I had until it was gone. I guess love really does do you like that. A flurry of Plexiglass and reduced seating capacity swept you away from me through the mist of a formidable viral load.

When love is lost, an odd thing happens. You begin to miss those things that once annoyed you to no end.

I miss the adrenaline rush of racing to throw down my backpack onto a table, marking my territory as a fellow patron makes a beeline in that general direction.

I miss Lauren from Kappa Delta Phi Epsilon clawing with 9-inch-long acrylic nails at her “Pizza is my love language” stickered Mac Book Pro as I am trying to pen a Pulitzer Prize award-winning blog post.

A coffee shop’s love is as sapid as the jet-black espresso which flows through its stainless-steel veins. It nurtures creativity and ingenuity within the warm embrace of its mellow acoustics. Anyone with an idea and a dream can be a hero of philosophy here; a salon of intrepid thought leaders awaits.

Oh coffee shop, oh coffee shop. Why didn’t I stay for just one more latte when I could? Why didn’t I talk to that cute barista who made eye contact with me that one time? (I know he wants me)

This is a love unconditional. I will not give up; I will not move on.

We will be together again soon, oh coffee shop.

And when that day comes, we will most certainly live happily ever after.