Throughout July, I managed to not once set food in a coffee establishment. This meant forgoing my neighborhood Starbucks, a place that I’ve embarrassingly made my own.
So when I walk in the door today, the Prodigal Son had returned home. Employees restrained themselves from hugging me, instead giving a steep discount to their new Vivanno drink. It tastes like multi-colored chalk cut with fruit juice and milk, which means I love it.