A sleepless night. The wind howled around the roof, branches fell, and, around 3am, next door’s corrugated roof finally peeled itself clean and flipped, luckily, in some other direction. Lafonda’s mum, as she usually did, knocked on our bedroom door at around 6am carrying two cafecitos. Fittingly, our stash of Cubita and Serrano coffee had run out a few days before and we’d forgotten to buy more. The coffee she brought, then, was classic state-rationed Coffee, the ingredients and quality of a more dubious nature. The repercussions of Irma were already being felt.