The hot chocolate is more like melted belgian truffle than the stuff my mother serves. Its dark, rich and coats my tongue thickly before flowing down my throat. The top is swirled with white milk foam and spotted with cocoa powder. It smells like Charlie's Chocolate factory and I am torn between wanting to savour it and inhale it. For some moments I just wrap my hands around the ceramic mug, letting the warmth flow through my fingers, banishing the wintry chill. Despite choosing to make it last it is gone too soon. I know before I leave my chair i will be back here tomorrow for another. Some things are too good to have just once.
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