Let the wind and rain on this dreary day refresh your mind, and seep into this, the very corners of your soul. That way we can drink in the storm together. Instead of our midweek coffee, hot, we'll brew this Friday morning cold, and sip until the weekend appears. Polite and unfolding, as the packet of paper and its peers, for the cream is sweet enough for the cold brew itself. And so I ask of you. Would you drink in a metaphor or two with me, just for a break? In order to take away, from the truth of day which has yet to grow but an hour old. Let the wind and rain suppress all thought, as we sit beside, in the room of old. Breaking, waiting for the will-less voice which always seems to sleer and say...get back to work you sleepy, seeping, sipping souls. Take your supposed spice coffee calling called cold brew and go.