It’s been Gershwin for the last four days. Gershwin on the way to work, Gershwin on the way home and Gershwin while I sleep. Just Gershwin.
The young lady behind the counter handed me my tall coffee and I poured it down my throat as quickly as I could stand it. I carried the empty cup for a few blocks before I threw it into a garbage can that looked like a relic from the 1970’s New York. It was dented and stunted from years of being thrown in and out of garbage trucks.
The young lady was distracted by a young couple who were making out in the far corner of the coffee shop so much so that she forgot that I didn’t pay for my coffee. I reminded her though.
Some days are better than others. Obviously. Today was a good day. Not better than a year and nine days ago, though. That day was wonderful. Like a dream. Today was generic. Sometimes generic is good.
Time for more Gershwin.
