Minneapolis, MN (music; beatles)

(notes from the week)

A dark storm of chocolate chases the tan steamed remains of milk down the glass as I tip it towards my mouth. Its chalky remains slide down still separated, and the glass, coated with the glittery remains of sugar, is replaced back onto the table atop the remains of the day’s paper. It’s morning.

The sun is shining in through the camouflage of fingerprints on the large storefront window and casting leafed shadows of the ledges potted plants onto my shoes. Despite the sun, it is cold, and all feeling in toes has become fleeting. I’m playing paddleball with the boy at my elbow. I sit turning pages of a book, in attempts to distract myself from tabulating how many days I’ll be away before inevitably landing back where we left off. I watch him cross t’s on the bottom left of the cross word and mentally cataloging the aftermath of my hot chocolate alongside this fleeting moment, as flight confirmation e-mails tally the passing of each day.