The Dog Days of Melancholy

These are the worst days of a time which one particularly painful aspect of life hangs overhead.

On a day like this, the highlight of the morning is the availability of a corner spot at Pete’s coffee. So welcoming, waiting for me with open arms, so soft and moist, it just feels so right… I quickly lay my shoddy claim to it, shedding my wintry coat over it to cover my corner seat at the corner table as if that will secure it for myself in perpetuity and in clandestiny. The dreary dank pop pumped into my head like buckshots through a shotgun, but doesn’t bother me. This is as they say, as good as it gets.

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