The coffee is good today. Michaela must have set up the brewer, after a thorough wash of all the parts that even the Mom and Pop shops seem to need to have for a decent cup, at high traffic volume. I sashay over to a single table in the corner. The table has one chair and a padded bench seat that extends from one end of the wall to the windows opposite. I prefer the bench because I sit here several times a week to watch the customers wander in, sit or hurry out, all versions of my past and future selves filing through. Continue reading
past
Tales Untold, and Best Forgotten?
“Come on Alice, tell the tale.”
“We won’t be shocked, dearest.”
“There’s nothing to tell. He was a shy man, bit of a stutterer, and very good at storytelling and maths.” Continue reading

