Well it was inevitable. I hold a dry coffee cup in one hand and lifeless beans in the other hand. As I let my tears run down my face I can only curse them and wish that one would have landed on the beans. I had what I needed, heat, the beans I just had no water. I will bury the beans outside and cry over its resting place in the hopes that something sweet may grow after I leave.

I wish my family were hear. It hurts more because my precious rose isn't here to hold me and help me understand that it's ony coffee.