28 day monologue challenge: 9 - Bad Coffee

I didn't really think there was such a thing as bad coffee. I love coffee in any form. Instant as a pick me up in a hurry, splash of skimmed, teaspoon tinkling in the mug as the water pours over. Freshly milled beans lovingly brewed in a stovetop moka pot, simmered on the hob until the surface turns blond. Forced through an AeroPress, a fragrant hiss of air as the world wakes up. Espresso in an Italian bar, crema the colour of clotted cream, quaffed with a few words with the waiting staff. A leisurely cappuccino, froth mountains flecked with chocolate powder, sipped over a pastry and a newspaper. Coffee was the punctuation in my day. That was until the office machine. A flimsy plastic cup of brown, with a squirt of white, the temperature of the dark side of the moon. Cup so wobbly it's almost empty by the time I get to my desk, and my shoe is almost full. I want to go back to working from home…