From the looks of it you’ve got to get here early if you want to get a good seat. It’s around eight in the morning and all the sofas and armchairs are taken.
Actually, there’s only one sofa and two armchairs. It’s a small shop. There was a beautiful, spacious Starbucks in Hampton. It hurt my heart to see it close. Obviously not the right market. Too many Bamas.
Fayetteville is only slightly better. If I had to choose a city south of Atlanta, though, it would be Peachtree City. They have a Starbucks, a Books-A-Million and a few other savvy, bright spots of retail and consumer culture.
I miss living in Atlanta proper, though. If I have to be in Georgia, I’d rather get closer to the city. Maybe the next best thing is to get some cheap, dependable transportation. That might do the trick.
Wow. I just noticed what a beautiful day it is. Sky the color of the bluest eye, framed by these oak(?) trees with branches looking like rusted pipe cleaners. I’m gazing out this big glass window into the parking lot of Fayette Pavilion. Not too much traffic. It’s Sunday morning and most of the stores are not open yet.
I’m peacefully ensconced in suburbia. A lone black bird flies across my line of sight. Inside, the gentle music playing over the speaker system is interrupted by the occasional rough gurgle of the barista steaming milk.
The sun is out. I know this, not because I can see it directly—it is somewhere behind the building in which I’m sitting—I know this because of the way a stop sign out in the parking lot is throwing back flickering light at me. The side roads leading in and out of the complex are striped with long shadows and swathes of sun beams.
I have a feeling it’s going to be a good day.
