Taking the last few sips of the coffee that I'd allowed to get cold somehow remind me of evenings at my grandparents place, sitting up with them watching TV, talking, the slight cool of the night tinging the edges of the room's warmth, having a cup of something to drink on the floor next to the chair...

The pigeon's blood red carpet, collection of comfortable chairs, Nanna saying, "I was just resting my eyes..." when Pappa and I woke her up when she was sleeping (and starting to snore).

For some reason, those sips of coffee put me right back there. I could literally see it. Just for a few seconds, it was like I was sitting in the lounge with them.

Rather an odd feeling.

Perhaps my house reminds me a lot of the style of my grandparent's house. Maybe that's why I developed such a sentimental attachment to it from the moment I first set foot in it. Who knows.

Maybe there was just something hallucinogenic in the coffee.

Or the joys of having a really strong sensory-memory connection o.0