I can feel his eyes flick towards me; he watches me as I separate the unruly pile of newspaper into two stacks.
Ads. Ads. Ads. News.
Two droplets race along the plastic lid as I slowly lift it off the coffee cup. The second catches the first and inexorably they succumb to gravity’s pull, dropping, staining the newsprint. I can already feel my headache recede. Is it the Advil kicking in? The two english muffins I’d wolfed down an hour ago?
It’s not until I’m driving down CA-29S that I hear an urbane voice asking me if I’m a coffee “addict”.