I’ve missed the feel of an outdoor café, my feet rubbing weather-stained sidewalk thick and coarse and sun-bathed. Umbrellas flap stiff and lazy in the breezes that blow through my armhair and the highway whirs ocean-like a hundred feet away. Table sets tangle in their own shadows.
I forget the doors have been designed to swing shut, forget the climate control as my shoes heat, forget disinfectant on the floor, the bill of health, the neat packages of mustard, ketchup, sugar, salt, pepper, mayonase, and cream cheese, forget I’m unemployed again. My lemonade is cool and sweet.