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Dear Iced Coffee

If you think that cracking the glass and sending its thick bottom straight onto the bony part of my foot, where the veins are proudly protruding, causing a viscous gash in my flesh and making my thick, dark red blood slowly seep from my veins will stop me from drinking you – you are wrong. If you think that making me nearly faint at the sight of my own blood and causing the wound to burst open each time I try to stand on my foot will stop me from turning to you at 3pm each day – you are wrong. If you think that not being able to stand today will stop me from walking tomorrow – you are wrong.

Iced coffee, we may not be friends today; in fact, we may be arch enemies today, but if you think that that means this foot will not heal, that I will not have another injection of caffeine and that I will not run again – then you are very very wrong! Because, Iced Coffee, running is my passion, and you are my drug. So be afraid Iced Coffee. Be very very afraid. 

à bientôt, mon ami!

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