We sat outside MJ’s at a table in the sunshine with our usual. They know us now, the Eggs Brothers: Benedict and Royale.
It’s a little step outside of the rest of the day. Reality swirls quietly away at a distance of about 6 feet from the table, always.
Plans are made, rights are dismissed and rewritten righter, wrongs and their perpetrators are dismissed and mocked.
There’s an unspoken suspension of nutritional facism, cake here is harmless, its powers controlable. A second cuppa is not more sugar and caffeine, it’s the epilogue.