If you can find the right table, you can carve out a place for yourself in this cavernous space. I’ve spent hours here, at the high tops near the door. Rain pattered the sidewalk outside and the place emptied and re-filled in the time I’ve been banging away on my little story. Twins came in crooning in tandem for hot chocolate. Friends stopped in on their way to the Halloween store. I ate a cheese danish I didn’t need and nursed a pre-packaged drink. Somewhere in that time I wrote something I hope I can be proud of, and remembered what I’ve missed about living a writer’s life.