The café is crowded, which gives me a chance to slink in undetected and loiter at the back to observe Justin. He is doling out muffins, coffee and bons mots with charismatic zeal to jonesing office-workers who offer little in the way of intercourse.
Certainly, less than I did.
I exit the office bursting with self-esteem and skip out onto Swanston Street with an impromptu soft-shoe shuffle of which Gregory Hines would have been proud. It’s a beautiful day, the finest in nearly a decade, for today I am bound for a café at which I intend to purchase a cup of coffee.
Full strength coffee.
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