It's my weekly treat to myself: a cappuccino from the university vending machine during my in-class break. Normally I avoid vending machine coffee at all costs, but here it isn't so bad. Plus the fact that the machines are normally surrounded by French students all waiting for the machines to announce their beverages are ready makes me a little more comfortable.
It's a ritual now: I walk into the hall through the glass door, see the crowd and, resisting the urge to turn on my heel and walk back to the class, push forward, insert my 50 centimes, and press "cappuccino."
A brown cup falls into the holder and I wait for the vending machine's little chime. All the while I try to listen to the conversations going on around me, snippets of classes and people and things I don't know. When the chime sounds, I will collect my brown cup and make my way back to the classroom.
It's a ritual now.
It's a ritual now: I walk into the hall through the glass door, see the crowd and, resisting the urge to turn on my heel and walk back to the class, push forward, insert my 50 centimes, and press "cappuccino."
A brown cup falls into the holder and I wait for the vending machine's little chime. All the while I try to listen to the conversations going on around me, snippets of classes and people and things I don't know. When the chime sounds, I will collect my brown cup and make my way back to the classroom.
It's a ritual now.
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