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This morning, as I sit with my breakfast plate at the kitchen island, I eat slower than normal, delaying my hurry towards my office. My hope is to see Emma before I start my work for the day.

“Bonnie,” I call across the room. “When did Emma start drinking coffee for breakfast?”

It is a question I should know the answer to. I knew it was her habit when I returned from college this year. I doubt she drank coffee at age fifteen when she moved in, but I can’t ...