Stream of Consciousness Writing…Latte

The latte tastes rich, hot over tongue and beyond. Warming my insides and letting the feeling grow. The foam is light and was adorned with a leaf, which looked great till my spoon dumped a teaspoon of sugar onto it taking it to the bottom of the cup. I sipped gently, listening to the chatter around me and the jazz playing over the speakers.

I wait in anticipation. A few more sips, cooling as I go.

Finally I savour the last of it and I’m saddened to discover that the leaf is not where I hoped it to be.