I tapped my leg under my desk. I could smell the strong, heady aroma of freshly brewed coffee—the kind that promised more than it delivered, especially when Nancy poured in extra cream. At this point, I was used to it. Of course, I could’ve always made my own coffee, but I was afraid of hurting her feelings.
26, Pink Snowballs by SM Prasad
I tapped my leg under my desk. I could smell the strong, heady aroma of freshly brewed coffee—the kind that promised more than it delivered, especially when Nancy poured in extra cream. At this point, I was used to it. Of course, I could’ve always made my own coffee, but I was afraid of hurting her feelings.
