Sitting at the coffee shop…

I’d love to have something wonderful to write here. Instead, I’ve got to deal with the too loud jazz CD of the week, obnoxious teenagers, and other pointless, meandering conversations around me. The streetlights gleam like stars through the windows as I stare out into the night. LA doesn’t have many stars in the sky so we take what we can. I foolishly like to think that at any moment one of these cars pulling up had you seated in the passenger seat, since you don’t drive, and we could spend the evening conversing, laughing, and wondering how to fill the awkward pauses. Instead, I’m here surrounded by nobody of importance.