Black, brown, with steamed milk or without, or maybe an espresso or a frappuccino (what’s the difference between that and cappuccino anyway?) – I’m taking my time weighing options to find the best, the perfect choice, and although I know it’s just house policy, the smile she gives me is the sweetest smile, the very definition of beauty: patiently soothing my insecurity, assuring me that my choice, if and when it comes, will be appreciated, while I’m determined to make the most of this moment, aware that her smile distracts and delays me even more. Amanda was right, I really needed to get out more.
I thought I had an endless supply of slim gold bars of love to hand around with reckless abandon.
Imagine my surprise to turn up to my warehouse to find it sold, a dingy coffee-house in its place.