In the morning upon awakening, I Jones for coffee.

It’s actually the americano that I like, which got its name during WW2 when the American soldiers watered-down the expresso of their Italian hosts.

On my trip, I hear the morning chants of fellow Jonesers! “Got a smoke?” They plead.

I’ve been thinking about fasting and giving up coffee in my attempts at immortality.

These grand ideas fade at my second Americano of the day.