Part Two:
Well, I don’t live in Houston, but it’s close to home?
A house isn’t a home.
Roadside:
There’s a Starbucks in San Marcos. Actually, to me, it’s a little south of San Marcos, sort of across the free way from the outlet mall. When I’m going to one lake? I’ll stop there. When I’m riding the train from San Antonio to Austin? That Starbucks sign is visible out the right side of the train and a clue that it’s almost Austin time.
Stopped there Saturday night. Had to pee. Bought a single dry, non-fat cappuccino, and while I was listening to milk foaming, the barista, she squinted out of one eye, then her other eye, and then back again Like each eye was weirdly getting me in and out of focus.
“I know you,” she said.
“No you don’t. Never seen me before in your life.”
Last two times I’ve been in that store, I’ve been hot and smelly from fishing, sun-baked and crisp. Ordered my coffee, “Like my women, cold and bitter.”
She mentioned her sister. Her sister in Austin. Hadn’t seen or heard from that group in several long years.
That was seriously weird. That little sister, though? She’s looking good these days.
Back in Black:
Oh goodness me.
