Dreams full of people. There are phone calls I need to make.

I know that sound. It is the sound of a metal spoon against the bowl as one of the children digs at some cereal.

I walk to the back of the gym and enter the group exercise room. More and more bodies filter in. “This doesn’t look good. Amy is usually here by now. I hope we have a class.”

Class cancelled. I try to find another studio nearby. Nothing.

The stores aren’t open yet and she convinces me to take her to the French bakery to pass the time. I can’t decide. Everything looks so good. She picks 3 macaroons: lemon, coffee, salted caramel. I settle on a Pomme Fine. She makes the coffee to order. This might be the best thing I’ve had in this town.

She picks the churro sticker. I tell the cashier that she’s probably too young to remember Delia’s. In another life I would have shopped here as a kid too, could have lived out all my Jnco dreams. Am I now old enough to remember things that no longer exist?

Wash day.

Jim and Pam.

The chili is too spicy. She and I look at each other but don’t say anything.

“responsibility and freedom, play and rest.”