Six Hand Drawn Sketches from the Summer of Nineteen Ninety Two

vests were sitting by the windows.

A young man with short brown hair was wiping the espresso machine with a clean white cloth.

“Just a drip coffee,” I said, sitting on the end stool.

“To go?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “I will have it here.”

He reached under the counter and pulled out a paper cup.

“We are out of the ceramic ones,” he said.continue reading …