The usual, please.

Without intending to, I've become a regular at a coffee shop.

I've got a standing therapy appointment Friday mornings. I take the bus across town and walk a few blocks, and for the last several weeks, I've been walking past this corner cafe. Nothing special: cold drinks, fancy cookies, pastries, packaged sandwiches, lattes. A place for people in the neighborhood to come in for a little pick-me-up throughout the day at a reasonable cost for the services provided. I go there for coffee.

Specifically, I go there for a small coffee, in one of the ceramic latte and cappuccino mugs instead of a paper to-go cup, with room for milk. Same order, every time. Often I'll pay with exact change down to the penny. Maybe it's that payment down to the penny, for an unwavering order, at the same time, every week, that this week, I went to the counter, and the woman knew what I was going to say before I opened my mouth to ask for it.

The coffee itself didn't taste any different this week. Still the same reliable cup. I sat there, enjoying watching the steam, sipping gently with nowhere I had to rush to, enough time to linger and think about nothing much at all, and allowed myself to calm and settle in a bit before heading off to my appointment.

It was the highlight of my day, and I'll be doing exactly the same next Friday morning.