Roasted coffee turns in the cooling tray. The stainless stirring arms rotate in their dependable sort of way. The beans turning and sifting over the brushes and blades cast the shape of a star.
"How long does it take to cool?" My co-worker asks.
"Oh, in a couple minutes it will be as cool as the room." I respond. His eyebrows raise a bit.
"The cooling tray is to ensure that the coffee doesn't continue to cook after you drop it, ya know?" I ask.
He knows. He nods. Walking toward the control panel, his finger hovers over the button for the destoner. "Is it cool enough?" He asks, but he knows it is.
Before I can respond the jet-like "Whaaa" of the destoner shatters the hum of the stirring motor. Coffee falls from the cooling tray in sheets, only to be taken up again in a column of air to the silo.
We watch as the cooling tray empties. The stirring arms come to a rest.
Zephan gingerly switches off the destoner. The fan falls silent. From near the counter I hear coffee falling out of suspension, piling with a hushed "shhh."
I love it here.