brunch

My tables have been very sweet to me. One called me very beautiful and said that I reminded them of their daughter and then slipped me the card of their church along with a 60% cash tip—I was slightly offended. Another was just passing through and picked a new surrounding village off Apple Maps for me to describe each time I returned to their table. I returned six times and described six villages and had woven a web by the end: In Alstead there’s a beautiful library where my dear friend’s mother used to work. In Marlow there lives my dear friend’s mother. In Surry my dear friend went to the charter school. And me and him and our other dear friends like to hike in Stoddard and swim in Gilsum; and Marlow and Surry and eat pizza in Alstead. There was also Charlestown, which I could only say is the town where my mom’s boyfriend is from and rumor has it there’s a good food truck parked there right now. Another was Ken Burns and his friend. We talked about death doulas and a documentary I had watched at Sundance and how to perfectly poach an egg.