I have a faint distrust of frothy drinks. I think they hide some unpalatable thing underneath all that foam. I am reminded of sea urchins under sea foam, the unwitting step, the sting that ruins equilibrium.
And yet I sit quietly, a compliant con victim. A mark, contentedly sipping through foam. Slyly, I think of the spoon as a weapon of sorts. But when the sweetness hits my tongue, I forget the threat, and sit back to enjoy the dark liquid, froth and all.