Deception.

I opened the door to a cold draft
that,
in a world of blatant exaggeration,
froze the beads of sweat
which had formed on my cheeks and neck.
I spied it in the corner,
the puddle of deep brown liquid- seemingly black,
much like my eyes-
its aroma made my nostrils flare with warmth
and made my lungs squeal with joy.
I picked my mug up;
pink, with a floral print,
so typically British to look at
for something that held
such a very “American” substance.
My lips touched the rim of the mug,
anticipation flowed through my veins,
stronger with each passing beat of my heart.
Alas, I was betrayed!
My taste buds flinched and protested,
what was this strange, deplorable taste,
so unlike what it was supposed to be, so wrong.
My coffee mug had fed me
the despicable protein shake
that mother often coerced me to drink.

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