fine dining

One advantage of being laid-off is that often I can share breakfast with Joe, who works from home. We like to arrange a tasty array of fruit, carbs and protein a la the June Taylor Dancers. We pour some fresh Caffe Verona and open up the newspaper. Sips and crunches are overlaid with "hmmms" and "grrrs" as the victuals and caffeine steadily power our brains. We ponder a story placement or length. We consider a photo. I start reading a story aloud. Joe, patiently, puts down the score sheet and listens, then nods, maybe laughs or snorts, as appropriate. We talk about the story. Then we go back to perusing the paper some more. We look up our horoscope and decide whether it's true or bogus, depending on whether we like the prescribed future.
Joe asks me what my day looks like. I tell him. He ponders, offers an idea. We riff on it until it blooms a bit more. I ask Joe about his plans. He tells me. I offer an idea. We riff on it until it blooms a bit more.
Then we clear away the dish and cups and head to our respective desks to work.
Our breakfast together shapes our ideas and our day.

And it's lots nicer than the granola bar and go-cup on the old morning commute.

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