First message
It's one of those days I've forced myself to go out. I sit at the corner booth where i can see both the window and those inside, and I'm having my coffee and breakfast trying to write on my latest paper. I watch the people in line and those seeking community with others who enjoy the decadence of of fine or flowery coffee. I lean down to my Frappacino with extra whipped cream and caramel drizzle and lick the whipped cream, completely unaware I've acquired a bit of whipped cream on my nose as i watch people enter and leave, showing only the masks they put in place when leaving their home. I never could understand living with a mask. Maybe it was the simple fact that I am pathologically incapable of masking that i find it repugnant. I notice you immediately when you come in. And i try to just pay attention to my computer until the whipped cream finally melts and falls on my laptop. Grabbing a napkin I try to clean the keyboard as you approach