The sidewalk crowd ebbs and flows. Dogs follow their owners, some unleashed. Rain falls onto alfresco umbrellas. Wet tables remain empty.
“It’s my second day at work after five months off,” the waitress at my local café proffers.
‘Baby brain,’ I think, when she apologizes for checking what style coffee I’d ordered earlier. Again.
“A regular latte… with one,” I smile, gesturing with open hands to the lack of sugar containers along the timber bar where I perch atop a bar stool. I remember the struggle of work and sleep-deprived thought juggle. It feels like ten years. The latte eventually arrives.