Unfurled

I sit in  a wonderful coffee shop on 28 Jane Street. It feels like I’m sitting in a friend’s loft apartment replete with exposed ceilings and brick walls. My friend likes to bake and fancies herself a coffee barista. Instead of a TV, a snack bar, instead of a bed, a great big red velveteen sofa. This is where I sit. In front of me rests a pumpkin latte with two shots of espresso and a grlled cheddar on multigrain on a chunky ceramic plate with pink and seagreen borders, something that might have made an appearance on Leave it to Beaver if it were in color.