Tinges of the unexpectedly existential
While waiting in a coffee shop line, holding a to-go box from the nearby Italian restaurant, a family steps in behind me. Who I assume to be the grandfather taps my container and says, “Whatcha got there?”“Basil pesto ravioli. It’s delicious.”“So who’s going to finish it? Someone at home?”“Oh, it’s just me. So I’ll take … Continue reading Tinges of the unexpectedly existential
