Every weekday morning after I get up, I make coffee while Alex takes the first shower. It's only instant, albeit good instant, but it holds the magic of the first cup of coffee.
It's strong, bitter despite the sugar, but warming. It defies the morning with the initial burst of energy. It holds the promise of good days, and it's an oasis of peace in what will be a long day.
It feels, of course, a lot less poetic than that, because it's 7.30 and I feel a lot more like a zombie than a poet, but I do love coffee, and the first cup of coffee of the day ever more so.