If you arrive early enough, 6:30, its a different space. Racks of warm sticky buns have just been put on display, there is only a single other occupant, quietly sitting at one of the two person tables, typing away. The barista seems relaxed and unhurried, perhaps a little sleepy. We lingered over our orders, enjoying our indescision, hearing about the barista recent disavowal of suger (she says as she peaks out from between the cinammon rolls). A man comes up and apologizes for taking the leather chairs, “Did you want them? You were here first.” We gesture broadly at the cafe’s cavernous emptiness, “It’s alright, we’ll find somewhere to sit.”

By 7:30 however its as busy as most coffee shops ever get, by 8:30 I imagine it will be the wall to wall people I associate with Zoka.

Aidan and Kate got off to an early start on the next leg of their road trip without restorting to truck stop coffee, and I have two new words to add to my lexicon, rosette (as in “they even rosette their hot chocolate!”), and fictive (e.g. “he has a fictive understanding of events”).

(posted from Zeitgeist)