A photograph of a cafetiere next to a hand thrown coffee mug; laminated into plastic and propped up against the microwave on the counter.
“Can I have a coffee?” I point at the picture and fizz open my wallet.
She smiles and takes my coins. From beneath the counter she juggles a tin the size of an oil drum. She winks as she spoons coffee granules like second hand cat litter – adds scorched water – and begins to stir all horrorshow.
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