86 degrees. Too hot for fall. Even the air conditioning on the bus feels
good. For once, I am not shivering as I
travel crosstown.
Today I am taking Class #10
(I’m now half done). As I do before
every class, I stop at the same Dunkin’ Donuts to pick up a large coffee. I am particular about my order:
The height of the coffee — an inch from the top so it
doesn’t spill as I walk. The color of the coffee — one squirt of half &
half.
Sometimes the over-zealous server
adds too much cream. I hate milk, so coffee too light is undrinkable for me. I
like to see the coffee before the lid is put on it.
Today I get a polite young
man. He takes my order, does as
requested, and shows me the coffee.
“Like my complexion,” I hear him say, but I’m not sure. I ask him what he said and he repeats, “You
like your coffee like my complexion.” I
look at him and he’s smiling. His skin
is a beautiful medium brown, exactly the same color as my coffee.
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