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the coffee snob’s chance encounter with -0.95° in a forgotten north

@David Vance2/28/2026blog
the coffee snob’s chance encounter with -0.95° in a forgotten north

well first off i should probably mention that i’ve been surviving on instant coffee and regret for the past three days. the thermometer read -0.95° when i stepped outside, which is basically a meno pill for your teeth. i’m not even a coffee snob i’m just a human trapped in a wind tunnel of frosty despair. i just checked and it’s that freeclin grocery store weather right now, hope you like hypothermia and stale pastries.

okay but here’s the thing: coffee doesn’t care about the weather. at least mine doesn’t. i’m sitting here at 3am in this almost-empty café, half-naked under a flannel sweater, trying to make my third cup taste like hope. the barista, a guy who probably smells like diesel and existential dread, handed me a mug with a cracked sleeve. i asked him why it looked like someone dumped a snowbank into the design. he just stared at me and said, ‘that’s how we do it here.’ i’m not sure if that’s a warning or a compliment.

someone told me that the city’s oldest coffee shop sold out of decaf last week. coffee snob logic says, ‘how? decaf is liquid disappointment!’ but apparently, a local said it’s because the owner’s a sorcerer who secretly staffs it with espresso to make people regret their life choices. i’m 60% convinced. i heard that from a woman who was probably drunk and trying to sell me a flea-market mug. if you’re pouring decaf into a cup that costs $20, you’re already lost.

the neighbors? forget about them. if you get bored, the closest valid city is a 45-minute drive away, which is either a miracle or a curse depending on your streaming service autoplay. i’m talking about this tiny place where everyone either works at a hardware store or collects vintage horror VHS tapes. last night, i heard someone yell, ‘IF THE COLD DOESN’T KILL YOU, MAYBE YOUR SOUL WILL.’ i don’t know if they were a poet or just really cold anymore.

i found this café by accident. i asked a local for directions to ‘anything coffee-related’ and ended up here. google maps says it’s 2.3 miles from the nearest exit, which is wild. the sign is crooked, painted in places with what looks like motor oil. inside, the tables are sticky with what might be coffee or regret. i took a picture of a drip tray that doubles as a modern art installation. the caption would be ‘this is why we can’t have nice things.’

check out this place on yelp - yelp has 3.2 stars because people either love the ‘haunted charm’ or think it’s a meth lab. don’t take my word for it. tripadvisor review from 2019 says, ‘the coffee tastes like a funeral, but the owner’s laugh is worth it.’ honestly, i’m not sure if she was kidding.

i also snapped a few photos. first, a latte art that looks like a melted ice cube. second, a cracked USB port in the café’s wall, which i’m 100% sure is a metaphor. third, a street sign that reads ‘CAUTION: EXTREME CAFFEINE LOGIC NEARBY’ and i’m pretty sure it’s a fake.

a latte with a melted ice cube art design


here’s the weird part: the coffee snob’s bible. i found a flyer taped to a chair that claimed their beans are roasted by a ghost barista. the QR code linked to a 20-minute video of a man in a trench coat arguing with a coffee machine. i didn’t watch it. i didn’t have to. the caffeine alone was enough to make me question my life choices.

a cracked usb port in a café wall


reviews here are mostly hearsay. i overheard a guy say, ‘the owner’s secret ingredient is regret.’ i don’t know if that’s true or if he was just high. another local warned me that the coffee shop moves between dimensions at midnight. i didn’t believe him until i opened my bag and found a stale croissant from 2017. maybe they’re right. maybe the cold is real. maybe the whole town is made of coffee grounds.

stay safe. don’t trust anyone with a latte machine. and if you come here, bring extra socks. i did, and i still ate a piece of my favorite one. it was worth it.

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About the author: David Vance

Writing is my way of listening.

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