Barefoot, and exhausted she enters the plantation,
The sound of leather loafers move towards the counter,
Decadent heat swells across her forehead making sweat shiver down her temples,
Sweaty palms snatch a decorated mug, and contaminate the elixir with milk,
Her dark hands desperately search for more beans from the plants, before giving up and filling up her sack and returning to the village,
spices and sugar sweeten the blow, of knowing the bitterness of black coffee,
The sun is an enemy, and pelts her forehead with heat as she returns to the place called home,
Artificial winds cool down the man of many titles, as he pretends to take an interest in the international affairs presented in his daily newspaper while waiting for the finishing touches to his brew,
the load begins to take its toil on her back and she drops the sack,
searching for a visa, meaningless coins are dropped on the coffee shop floor,
She immediately collapses in a frenzy to pick up the goods and dust them of with her fingers,
His eyes momentarily dart towards the silvered coins on the floor, and he ignores them and enters his card into the machine,
‘These are still good, they must still be good, they’ll never know, we can still sell them’ she convinces herself as she clasped the coffee beans into the sack,
‘Aren’t you gonna pick that up sir’ , ‘Um, yeah probably afterwards’ he laughs at the cashiers unconscious desire to obtain as much money in the tip jar as possible,
She picks up her sack and continues walking up the hill, until eventually shanty huts are in sight,
a printed off receipt is quickly screwed up into a ball in his pants-suit and he obliges himself with a sip as he strolls towards the doors,
Her faint body seems to motion towards the ground, but by this time other villagers have spotted her and begin running towards her, her lifeless body is circled by their glances,
‘Too bitter… it needs to be diluted’
‘Spices and sugar sweeten the blow, of knowing the bitterness of black coffee’