Caucus

Strings of lights winding down a hall lined with secret rooms, avocados, dancing, stolen coffee under the floorboards, dust burnt by a space heater.

Breakfast at P.J’s on a winter morning, cold seeping in through the glass. Thick socks and a huge borrowed sweater, angular toast, oil on the coffee, waitress with black rimmed eyes mirrored in a green glass ashtray.

A friend walks by the window. The day opens.