"Breathe, Journal, and Treat Yo Self!"

I had Eggs Benedict and you laughed at me because I ate the raw sugar meant for the coffee out of the bowl.  You sipped your Bloody Mary and read through the Boston Globe.  It was a Sunday morning in May and things were about to change.  But as the sunlight fought to enter the darkened dinning room we couldn't see it coming.  Could only see what was right in front of us.  The rich coffee, the flickering candle, the white tablecloth, the breakfast spread before us like a banquet for kings.  We ate in silence.  The rustling paper, the quiet din of waitstaff clearing tables and preparing for the lunch rush.  The morning was ours.  A final calm before the storm.