Ten.Two Thousand, Two Hundred & Ninety-Four
The perfect fall morning. A little foggy, a little breezy. I need a sweater.
“I know. A large coffee.” “You got it.” I tell her that I should buy some beans for home, but I haven’t. And the Naysayer decaf is good; it almost tastes like real coffee. She says another employee says it’s the best decaf he’s ever had, too. Worth the $4.60.
A cup of coffee in a place that is not home is also about being present where you are. I think about how this used to be a place we visited—a dream supported by a plan, but a dream nonetheless. Now it’s home.
They say it again—another comment about me asking questions. I could be projecting, but it smells familiar. Maybe my kind of curiosity is not the same as theirs.
I tell them I am choosing to trust my gut on this one.
It's German day at the food truck, which means I’m definitely getting a pretzel.
I almost forgot I had done all of this work already.
Focus on what is, not what is not.
Grilled salmon, couscous, the last of her tomatoes and corn and shallots cooked with a little bit of butter.
One quiz down, one more to go.
