Atmosphere
In winter, you can’t drink coffee because everything is too sweet, everything is sugarplums and marzipans and gingerbread and other three syllable candies. You can’t drink it during summer either, which is a time for lemonade and ice tea and peach cream flavored snowballs—which on general principle are all disgusting flavors to put in your coffee—and it’s impossible to drink anything in spring except tea. Autumn is perfect for coffee. I drank coffee for the first time in August of eighth grade, and it was black, and it was disgusting. Now I take mine with skim milk, and the color is the same as the leaves. New Orleans only has brown leaves; every time I travel over Thanksgiving my mom has a tendency of pointing out every single tree that is red or orange or yellow, which inevitably leads to my sister and I pointing out stop signs and warning signs and yield signs of similar colors. The leaves in New Orleans fall all at once, if they fall at all. You sound like a five year old eating chips when you step on them, and they get stuck in your shoes and drag along the ground, leaving behind a trail of dusty, coffee-colored flakes.
