I don't know that I've ever seen this Starbucks empty. It's 7pm on a Sunday night, and due to the crashing of my home internet access, I find myself huddled in the corner booth sipping a dirty chai and trying to avoid eye contact with the attractive, dangerously idle barista.
Though, in fairness to me, I shouldn't feel the need to withhold eye contact - a dilemma I will spend the next few entries explaining.
I apologize in advance for these entries, but knowing you have no knowledge of or relation to David makes you (and this) a safe place to search for any patterns of sanity in the events of the past few weeks.
So, without further ado, let us begin a story of great mystery and suspense - I shall call it Melted Contemplations.
~Samantha
