A 100-Word Flash Memoir
There’s something particularly beautiful about having an espresso past the bewitching hour, in perfect solitude. As a night shift worker, it’s become somewhat of a ritual. I brew a fresh pot, then pour myself a generous cup. I always drink enough to keep the dreariness at bay, but never too much that it prevents me from falling into a deep slumber after my shift. I take my time to drink it, savouring each chocolate note with every sip. “Salome’s Tune” by Gene Ammons plays in the background, as I continue to toil away under the comfort of the stars.