Dispatches from a Breakfast Joint # 57
- Jesse
- Oct 4, 2024
- 1 min read
black coffee
pours itself, smiles wide
her pot fresh
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small brown bird sings top 40 hits through plate glass
coffee, water, any drinks? grin preceeds, glance table-wise budwiser I am so sorry, not until 11 11? Alright, coffee miss
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