|CHO Current Issue
|Contents Page - This Issue
|Articles
|Archives |
September 2008, vol 4 no 3
|
Jeffrey Winke In Toasting Mode My brain has a dull ache. It feels like it's filled with foam insulation—the kind shot out of an aerosol can through a straw aimed at filling gaps and wide crevices. My brain is unplugged—dumb as a toaster sitting on the shelf, cord wrapped around it with the plug stuffed in a slot to make it easy to find the next time it's in toasting mode. Part of the dull ache is from a several-hour business meeting I attended. Part of it is from the tedium of searching everywhere for more than hour for a decent cup of black, full-bodied drip coffee. The sad reality is that there are no caf�s with latte-trained baristas or even a bookstore with a coffee area in this dismal part of Miami. bunched-up line her thin lips count out change |