Chapter 6. I stared out the window and rolled the paper cup around in my hand a little,

as if the motion was going to help the situation. The problem with places like the nameless

lunch counter from which this coffee had come was almost always the burner. The hot plate that the

pot sat on while it waited to be served.

The construction was based on the notion that the primary virtue of a cup of coffee was that it be hot.

And it's true, that played to the expectations. We associate the heat of a cup of coffee with its freshness,

and sometimes that is true. But in adding too much heat as a half-finished pot sits on the

burner, it changes the chemical composition of the brew. The evaporation of a certain amount of

water makes it stronger and in exactly the wrong way. And the heat itself provides a

caramelized and almost burnt flavor to the remaining beverage.

Now what my friend of the lunch counter had going on that most of his contemporaries did not,

was that touch of the poet that was required to brew a good cup in the first place.

Plus good beans, clean water, and the proper ratios of same.

When he was busy enough to keep the pot fresh, it would actually be worth drinking.

But that time was not now, and no amount of swirling the coffee around in the cup was going to make it any better than it was.

I swirled it a little more anyway.

Trixie had been in the phone booth for a while, probably bantering with Ted, which was fine, but a little unfair. Ted had an eye, and a few other parts for the ladies. The girl detective was a terrible

distraction for him, in part because she was unattainable. Or rather, because she was actually

pretty darned attainable and didn't care who knew it, but was unattainable to Ted because

of certain opinions she had regarding the eligibility of married guys.

I tried to impress on Ted that technically it was he who was supposed to harbor such opinions,

since it was he who had gone and got married and all, but he didn't think much of this.

...