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A Good Cup of Coffee Cures All

So I was thinking about magic lately. When people talk about magic it always seems to be with a capital “M,” you know what I mean? Love potions, changing the weather, being The Chosen One, that kind of thing. I’m more interested in the idea of small magic. Like, my mother could always predict who was calling when the phone rang. Always. I have a friend with long, painted nails and she’s never broken one in her entire life. There are other friends who cats will always come to when called or who have never sprained an ankle, something small but still with a whiff of magic to it.

So where am I going with this? There’s magic in small things, like a perfect cup of coffee, which is what I got at The Alchemist, over by Lauderale-By-The-Sea. Now there’s a name that promises some magic. It's a journey just to find it, almost wedged into a corner, a small, beckoning bungalow, all overgrown plants and greenery and wooden chairs and tables. Inside is all the manner of coffee accoutrements and alchemical symbols on the walls (for luck, maybe?). Well, they don’t need the luck, after just a sip of their signature cold brew I was a convert, they even use coffee cubes, a perfect touch that most places sadly don’t bother with. Some people have never ruined a soufflé, others can always calm down a baby just by holding them. Are they weird, tiny skills or a small kind of magic? No one at The Alchemist is shooting lightning out of their fingertips but they’re transmuting coffee so good it must be magic.

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