They are renovating the building across the road of my local independent coffee shop for months. I hate the sterile, choreographed warmth of Starbucks – not to mention the coffee’s awful unless I pour obesity-inducing levels of sugar in. But watching the builders swing up and down the scaffolding like monkeys, it takes me back. It reminds me I should call my brother – the brother who’s in a wheelchair because I made climb the scaffolding when we were kids and he fell.
Until I can return to my coffee shop without being reminded of my big sis failure, Starbuck it is.