The Pot

Early this morning I hustled up to the ladies restroom

here at camp. When I set foot in the door, I was greeted

with the familiar smell of coffee brewing. After leaving the stall,

I noticed a lady, standing at the sink, leaning into the mirror.

She was rubbing under her eyes. I spotted a small coffee pot plugged in.

“It’s espresso brew.” She said. “It’s worth every minute.

“Yes, yes” I agreed with her. I washed my hands, as she unplugged her little

red pot. “It’s my luxury.” she said, while sweeping her hands around,

in a panoramic way. I nodded to her as she protectively wrapped her hands

around her pot and left the facilities.