Sitting in a coffee shop about a mile from The Fens, I'm sipping on an americano while I wait for Bradley, who is now fifteen minutes late. There's no shortage of good coffee in Boston, although in this day and age I suppose there isn't a shortage of good coffee anywhere. The smell of fresh roast whisks through the air and the low hum of quiet voices carry throughout the shop.
Boston is an entirely different city between summer and winter. LA, on the other hand, is the same place day in and day out. I think a big part of it is that the mood varies by sports season and temperature. This specific spot used to be a favorite of mine and Julian's when we first started dating. Back before things got complicated. He had a friend that worked here, so we got our cups for free most of the time. I look back on those memories fondly. The best part of our relationship, even though he drank sugary lattes. I should have known then and there that there was no future for us.
