No Venti Love

Today, I have:

• two leisurely hours to write,

• two more for wittering over a project.

• and one for miscellaneous planning (personal).

I am whiling the hours away outdoors, coffee nearby, half full. LM is here on break, and he balances his cuppa on his knee, drawing deep drags from his cigarette. While I write, he eyes the local talent.

This brings to mind a recently read article on how people can possess a charming and romantic ability to think the world of strangers. New Yorker columnist Paul Simms serves up here four cups of slightly crushing Starbucks encounters.