Washrooms are for Esther & Sons customers only. Thank you!
Those must be a couple of the Sons right now, examining the plants--bending over to sniff them, even--and talking loudly enough to generate these first few sentences. But they've gone inside now.
This is Kelowna, another smokey place, cough cough.
The Son who made my latte did well. It's all gone, the inside of the cup looking like exposed sedimentary rock above a pool the colour of my tanned right arm. Walking here from my sister's place, I felt a-travel again. Do I ever get lonely? Why yes! But I write it off as essential human condition, or something. I mean that. Let's say there are only two choices: sip my latte over the sports pages of the Globe and Mail or look/listen around. The latter is the bit that leads out, the lonely bit.