Collection: Coffee in Edinburgh

The rain falls in gentle drops as you walk down the side of the old, dimly lit city. It’s cold. It’s been a long day. It’s been a long few days. 

Yet all isn’t dreary. Your destination is close. You find the familiar, warmly lit bookstore in your view, just across the street. After you check both ways, you step off the sidewalk, into the street, dodging deep puddles that reflect the warm lights shining in the buildings around you through the raindrops, and onto the opposite sidewalk again. You reach your destination, and open the entry door. You let yourself in; a light jingle announcing your presence. Instantly you’re greeted by soft murmurs and contented laughter from other strangers in their own conversations around the bookstore. Café? You’re not sure which it technically is. It’s always just had both books and coffees since you’ve been frequenting. You head to the counter and place your order for a coffee. And a slice of apple pie. You’re pretty sure it’s homemade because it just has that taste. And they serve it warm.

Ah! Perfect. Your favorite spot just opened up and you slide right in. Tucked in by one of the establishment’s toasty furnaces, shelves full of books and nestled by a great big window overlooking the old, gothic city, you shed your overcoat and hat. You sigh, sit and contemplate. Rain streaks down the large, old window. 

Your coffee and pie is brought over, interrupting your thoughts. Rich nutmeg and that specific hot apple smell fill the air. Only overtaken by the aroma of rich coffee. All that’s missing is a book. But you already know which one you want to pick up: you saw it when you walked in, long forgotten in your memory from your childhood until you saw it sandwiched there between all the other old books. 

Nothing left to do but pick that book up, return to your seat and coffee. And breathe.