It happens every once in awhile: I find myself slowly drifting back into a caffeine haze, jonesing for that next espresso fix. The once a week trip to Starbucks turns into a daily event, and I become so familiar to the baristas that they have my drink ready before I show up. My specialized gold card, with my name embossed in shiny letters, gets refilled, and espresso becomes a regular addition to the daily routine. I can walk through the door of any of several cafes in this town and be greeted by name. It’s nice to be known, but it’s also costly.
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