CHAPTER 16
Zen in a Cup
Cliff had always had a complicated relationship with coffee. It was like an on-again, off-again relationship—passionate in the morning, regrettable by afternoon. Sure, it kept him awake during those grueling rounds at the hospital, but it also turned him into a jittery mess. His hands would shake, his heart would race, and by midday, he’d crash harder than a toddler after a sugar high. And like any true dependency, one cup in the morning soon became two, then three, and before long, Cliff was pretty sure he was keeping the local coffee shop in business single-handedly.
He knew he needed an alternative, something that wouldn’t turn him into a caffeinated version of the Energizer Bunny. Tea seemed like the obvious choice—mellow, calm, and with just enough caffeine to keep him going. But as he was mulling over the idea, Sunny sent him a bag of green powder that looked suspiciously like something out of a health guru’s pantry. “Matcha,” the label read. Cliff squinted at the bag, as if it might explode. He had never heard of this stuff before. Was it some kind of superfood or just another health fad?
Being the cautious type (okay, maybe a little paranoid), Cliff didn’t dive right in. He needed to know what he was getting himself into. So, naturally, he went down the rabbit hole of online research. What he found was like discovering a miracle drug disguised as a humble green powder. Antioxidants, heart health, fat-burning—Matcha seemed to have it all. It was like the Swiss Army knife of beverages. And the best part? It promised “relaxed alertness.” Cliff’s eyebrows shot up. This was the holy grail—alert but calm, focused but not jittery, energized without the crash. It was everything coffee wasn’t.
Armed with this newfound knowledge, Cliff decided to give Matcha a try. His first sip was…not exactly love at first taste. “Earthy” was putting it kindly. It was more like drinking a field of grass. But he wasn’t one to give up easily. He started with a Matcha latte, drowning the green taste in milk and stevia, and gradually worked his way up to the pure, ceremonial-grade stuff.
It wasn’t long before Matcha became a staple in Cliff’s morning routine. The taste? He got used to it—convincing himself that the bitterness was just part of the charm, like coffee had once been. And as he sipped his bright green concoction each morning, he couldn’t help but feel a little smug. While everyone else was jittering their way through the day on caffeine highs and lows, Cliff was cruising through his tasks with the calm focus of a Zen master.
Okay, maybe not quite a Zen master, but close enough.
