Obviously we had a truck run into the Gator Studio building on Sunday. Luckily no one was hurt, except for my dear friend the Coffee Pot. He was always there for me when I needed him most. He lived a nice life, rent free, on the shelf of our break room. I'd turn to him and smile as I would pour a loving cup of medium-dark roast from his urn. Sunday, that all changed. He was found laying on the ground, ripped from his throne on top of the kitchen counter.

As I walked in Sunday evening to begin helping to clean up, everyone's faces dropped. They were not yet prepared to give me the sad news,

He didn't make it

A single tear fell from my eye as I slow-motion walked into the kitchen, as if one of my own family members had been involved in the accident. I was not mentally prepared for the scene I saw.

As the clean up process has begun, my heart is mending. I found an orphan upstairs in a closet. Dusted her off and plugged her in. Praying she would live again, I added the grounds, filter, and water. Flipped the switch, and waited to hear some sort of life come from her hot plate. As water began to flow, I celebrated and high-fived people around the office (I'm pretty sure they had no idea why I was celebrating).

RIP Coffee pot, your legend will live on, and your story will be told for generations.