I usually don’t buy coffee from a shop. I buy it from the local IGA and brew it at home; or rather, my wife makes it before I wake up in the morning.
But today was different. Today, I stood in line and ordered the only type of coffee I knew how to pronounce, “regular,” and fished some change out of my wallet. Inbetween my fumbling, I noticed a tiny cup next to the cash register labeled Karma Cup.