her drink — an iced cappuccino — gives her a tooth-ache by the first sip, but she’s determined to finish it by the third. she tells herself it isn’t a method of distraction when it really is, at least according to the bubble of anxiety threatening to burst in her chest, and tells herself again to breathe — not that it’ll help. she flexes his fingers and wipes the perspiration off her cold cup and exhales and squeezes her eyes shut and–
she folds in half, involuntarily, and vomits onto the linoleum floors.
As she stared down into her cup of steaming Cappuccino, it brought a smile to her face and heart. She had waited so long to experience the blend of ground prime coffee beans; fresh from the cheerful lady who greeted her with a smile, as she drove up to receive her prize at the window of the Dutch House. It was bumping with music and laughter from all around who worked and partook of their masterpieces. She delights her nose with the auroma of amazing blend of coffee and real cream. She takes a long slow sip, savoring every moment; now it is her tastebuds dancing with delight. She is in her sweet spot of heavenly paportions and knows she will be returning again.
She sipped her coffee thoughtfully, almost feeling the caffine activating her joints. It was a good feeling. She blinked and responded, “Yeah, I think so.”
“Good.”
Cappuccino is a hot drink. It is in the family of coffe but I think there is something like chantilly at the top and milk inside.
I don’t like this hot drink
“Cappuccino, please. Two sugars.” I never thought I would be in a coffee shop. How passe’. I don’t want to be associated with a group of people. But the coffee. The coffee is so damn good.
She sat with a cup of cappuccino to her right, a knife to her left. It was the worst sort of dilemma. She really should just put the knife down, and drink the cappuccino, but it was hard, so hard. The knife called to her, a siren song to the cake on the table.
Light brown, creamy, hot and comforting, this decafe cappuccino was just what she needed to take the edge off of a pretty crappy, cold Monday. Until, she realized it wasn’t decaf.
To some people cappuccino is an art. To others it’s a mega industry. To many it’s fuel that keeps us going throughout the day. And it all started with coffee beans and a little milk.
Its sweet and dark it’s hot when drinking it fast like a go kart race across the road, it helps relieve stress when needing a kick in the back. This contains all ingredients in one and combined helping it keep it’s flavors.
ON THE MONDAY, Robert let the cappucino flow through the cup. It was a tall cup, smooth and hollow and heavy to pick up, but the cappucino was frothy and warm.
the brand would starting to go down, and at the end nobody would nuy the brand anymore and the brand woon’t be popular as usual, lots of reason that happens to the coom
The creaminess hit my tongue as I told my friend: “This reminds me of the olden days – this used to Gong Gong’s favorite drink” Sometimes a smell or a taste reminds me of the days when we use to live with Gong Gong. I would have the drink every day if I could get the perfect blend of spices that he used to put in it. And sometimes I find myself longing for his warm meals when I make a meal and it tastes so bland and horrible. Life is not the same without him…
“my ice cap isn’t done right,” he complains, his expression twisted in sour-faced disgust. “i said one pump of caramel drizzle, not — eugh — four!” he made a show of wiping his tongue with a tissue even after he’d swallowed a great gulp of his drink. “eugh. good god.”
she stirred her smoothie with the tail-end of her straw and surveyed his dramatics blankly. “but you always get four pumps of caramel,” she told him, voice dry and bleak and exhausted, using the tone of a mother speaking to her tantrum-prone child. too bad he’s her husband. “that’s, like, your thing. four pumps. everyone knows that.”
“well.” he sniffed. “there’s no reason why they–” he nodded his head toward one of the waiters “–should. those freaks have had their eyes on me since we arrived.”
I will always love coffee, because it really reminds me of my mom. Shes always been drinking coffe. I remember when I was little and sitting with my mom outside as she drank her coffee, it was so peaceful and Ill never forget the moments Ive had spending time with my mother. I personally love drinking it too!
Cappuccino hot burning powerfully flooding me with maraschino memories of happy days in the little glass house. So good. So free. But they can’t be real. Zeno saw the truth…the double is equal to its half
He waits for her, his cappuccino getting cold on the rickety cafe table. She’s always on time. What is wrong? Is she with another man? Was it something he said? He can’t stand much more of this. He throws the cup on the floor, cappuccino spilling everywhere. He looks at his watch. She’s now five minutes late.
She ordered a shaken ice chai, and I ordered a cappuccino. Didn’t matter that I hated coffee; didn’t matter that the taste made my tongue wince and my teeth grow another inch in agony. I just sipped away and watched as her tea slowly disappeared through her straw, a muddy river zipping to her lips and disappearing as if down a vast, unending gorge.
We knew it had to end some day. I just didn’t know it’d end at a sh***y café in downtown Los Angeles, six years later.
Nothing fancy. I just want a damn cup of coffee, and the damn menu is full of exotic-sounding drinks. I have no idea what anything means–life, coffee… any of it. I just want a damn cup of coffee, and I have no idea how to get the simplest thing. How to be happy in this complicated world???
her drink — an iced cappuccino — gives her a tooth-ache by the first sip, but she’s determined to finish it by the third. she tells herself it isn’t a method of distraction when it really is, at least according to the bubble of anxiety threatening to burst in her chest, and tells herself again to breathe — not that it’ll help. she flexes his fingers and wipes the perspiration off her cold cup and exhales and squeezes her eyes shut and–
she folds in half, involuntarily, and vomits onto the linoleum floors.
The word Cappuccino. Coffee. Life. Vigor. Long life. Eternal youth. Energy. An excuse to buy those oversized Starbucks cookies. Call it what you want.
As she stared down into her cup of steaming Cappuccino, it brought a smile to her face and heart. She had waited so long to experience the blend of ground prime coffee beans; fresh from the cheerful lady who greeted her with a smile, as she drove up to receive her prize at the window of the Dutch House. It was bumping with music and laughter from all around who worked and partook of their masterpieces. She delights her nose with the auroma of amazing blend of coffee and real cream. She takes a long slow sip, savoring every moment; now it is her tastebuds dancing with delight. She is in her sweet spot of heavenly paportions and knows she will be returning again.
She sipped her coffee thoughtfully, almost feeling the caffine activating her joints. It was a good feeling. She blinked and responded, “Yeah, I think so.”
“Good.”
which coffee brand is best for you ?
is coffee bad for kids ?
does coffee effect kids more then grown ups ?
I am not a fan of cappuccino or coffee, But the art that people can make with the milk foam is pretty cool.
Cappuccino is a hot drink. It is in the family of coffe but I think there is something like chantilly at the top and milk inside.
I don’t like this hot drink
“Cappuccino, please. Two sugars.” I never thought I would be in a coffee shop. How passe’. I don’t want to be associated with a group of people. But the coffee. The coffee is so damn good.
She sat with a cup of cappuccino to her right, a knife to her left. It was the worst sort of dilemma. She really should just put the knife down, and drink the cappuccino, but it was hard, so hard. The knife called to her, a siren song to the cake on the table.
Light brown, creamy, hot and comforting, this decafe cappuccino was just what she needed to take the edge off of a pretty crappy, cold Monday. Until, she realized it wasn’t decaf.
To some people cappuccino is an art. To others it’s a mega industry. To many it’s fuel that keeps us going throughout the day. And it all started with coffee beans and a little milk.
Its sweet and dark it’s hot when drinking it fast like a go kart race across the road, it helps relieve stress when needing a kick in the back. This contains all ingredients in one and combined helping it keep it’s flavors.
ON THE MONDAY, Robert let the cappucino flow through the cup. It was a tall cup, smooth and hollow and heavy to pick up, but the cappucino was frothy and warm.
the brand would starting to go down, and at the end nobody would nuy the brand anymore and the brand woon’t be popular as usual, lots of reason that happens to the coom
The creaminess hit my tongue as I told my friend: “This reminds me of the olden days – this used to Gong Gong’s favorite drink” Sometimes a smell or a taste reminds me of the days when we use to live with Gong Gong. I would have the drink every day if I could get the perfect blend of spices that he used to put in it. And sometimes I find myself longing for his warm meals when I make a meal and it tastes so bland and horrible. Life is not the same without him…
The creaminess melted on my tongue as the liquid enveloped the tastebuds in my mouth.
“my ice cap isn’t done right,” he complains, his expression twisted in sour-faced disgust. “i said one pump of caramel drizzle, not — eugh — four!” he made a show of wiping his tongue with a tissue even after he’d swallowed a great gulp of his drink. “eugh. good god.”
she stirred her smoothie with the tail-end of her straw and surveyed his dramatics blankly. “but you always get four pumps of caramel,” she told him, voice dry and bleak and exhausted, using the tone of a mother speaking to her tantrum-prone child. too bad he’s her husband. “that’s, like, your thing. four pumps. everyone knows that.”
“well.” he sniffed. “there’s no reason why they–” he nodded his head toward one of the waiters “–should. those freaks have had their eyes on me since we arrived.”
I will always love coffee, because it really reminds me of my mom. Shes always been drinking coffe. I remember when I was little and sitting with my mom outside as she drank her coffee, it was so peaceful and Ill never forget the moments Ive had spending time with my mother. I personally love drinking it too!
Hello!
Hello!
Cappuccino hot burning powerfully flooding me with maraschino memories of happy days in the little glass house. So good. So free. But they can’t be real. Zeno saw the truth…the double is equal to its half
He waits for her, his cappuccino getting cold on the rickety cafe table. She’s always on time. What is wrong? Is she with another man? Was it something he said? He can’t stand much more of this. He throws the cup on the floor, cappuccino spilling everywhere. He looks at his watch. She’s now five minutes late.
She ordered a shaken ice chai, and I ordered a cappuccino. Didn’t matter that I hated coffee; didn’t matter that the taste made my tongue wince and my teeth grow another inch in agony. I just sipped away and watched as her tea slowly disappeared through her straw, a muddy river zipping to her lips and disappearing as if down a vast, unending gorge.
We knew it had to end some day. I just didn’t know it’d end at a sh***y café in downtown Los Angeles, six years later.
Nothing fancy. I just want a damn cup of coffee, and the damn menu is full of exotic-sounding drinks. I have no idea what anything means–life, coffee… any of it. I just want a damn cup of coffee, and I have no idea how to get the simplest thing. How to be happy in this complicated world???