LattesAndLoitering

It started, as these things often do, with a book. Not a new book, exactly—just new to me. One of those titles that practically taps you on the shoulder from across the digital aisle:

There’s a particular cup at my favorite café in Quincy, Brew haha. It’s not just a cup, it’s the cup—the one they always seem to hand me, even if I don’t ask. Red on the outside, patterned like someone took the time to make something decorative just for the joy of it. Thick-walled. Just the right heft. It fits the hand like it knows the weight of slow mornings and second chances.