Late one night I stopped at one of those 24-hour gas station mini-marts to get myself a fresh-brewed cup of coffee. When I picked up the pot, I could not help noticing that the brew was as black as asphalt and just about as thick.
“How old is the coffee you have here?” I asked the woman who was standing behind the store counter.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve only been working here two weeks.”