I have measured out my life in coffee spoons.
– T.S. Eliot
The afternoon light shone brightly on our sun-kissed skin, reminding us that summer was still reluctantly slipping away. Shadows from the military flags overhead disrupted the rays, causing rippling disturbances across the cement. A bumblebee buzzed in the shade where we sat to escape the persistent heat of the sun, and we watched it in amusement: it flew from one rose to the next, twirling deep inside it until we could only hear its buzzing wings deep inside.
Along the stairwell, there rested a giant moth—its wings mimicking the image of a wardrobe that Narnia might be hiding behind. It sat very still, and I heard that it had been resting there for days. I wonder what kind of journey led it here so that I could admire its beauty. His body was furry and caramel-colored, and his antennae burst from his crown like soft feathers.
We walked along the sidewalk in the quaint little town to find the sweetest coffee shop tucked away in an old bank. The vault was even used as an intimate side room for guests. The coffee was delicious, refreshing, and the chairs were so inviting that I wished we could lounge there all evening. But the day was growing short, as October days do, and we strolled down the sidewalk to explore an old drugstore before heading home for dinner.