Alone in a coffee shop at night

There is a coffee shop in Canada called Tim Horton’s (Tim’s for short) that is ubiquitous with hockey families. Often, you will find a Tim’s near a rink, especially older arenas. Actually, there are Tim’s everywhere in the city, including near schools, churches and on every street corner.

I’m currently sitting in such a Tim’s on this snowy, Sunday night.

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Elusive sleep

Imagine, a hangover. But not from cocktails.

A heavy head, filled with fog. Thick and soupy, full of words that won’t transmit.

Distractions.

A fantasy filled with desire and hope.

Longing.

There is no time, no peace, no focus.

But it will come. It has to.

The story takes shape, slowly, like the torso of a snowman. Getting bigger, fatter.

Until it melts. Again.

Sleep eludes. The wifi beckons. It never sleeps.

Maybe the words will form at dawn.

Maybe not.