It is fifteen minutes past eleven when I walk through the doors of True Food’s Bethesda location. It’s drizzling outside, but the gray weather does not find me in the wishful state it usually does. I woke up with a now-unfamiliar sensation: the need for coffee.

I am not a fanatic of the drink; I haven’t been for the past few years. But this morning, my nostrils frizzle nonetheless when the barista presents me the cup. It smells like home, the aroma of the Haitian ground. However, I am left disappointed when I take a sip. This is not from home. It is not nearly as rich and strong as what my grandmother used to serve us at breakfast, in an animated Port-au-Prince that is no longer. I keep drinking, nonetheless.