sometimes you find a coffee shop on a pier and have to drive across this rickety, one-lane bridge to get there. and once you get there, it kind of feels like you shouldn’t be there? but you should, because there’s a handful of lovely shops like a winery and a tiny museum about the history of canning done by women on this little pier. and this coffee shop’s matcha…well, it’s beautiful. and you hear the distant barking of sealions (and a sign showing which direction you’re hearing those barks from). and it’s foggy and it seems like it’s always foggy on this pier and the people are so nice and, for a brief second, you picture your life there. you imagine yourself working on a laptop at one of their tables all day, staring out the window every so often to watch impossibly large barges pass by. the scent of coffee cementing to your hair. and you can really see it. a different life. an out of body visual of an alternate you. maybe you’d be happier here? who knows. but you smile and leave and get back in your car. rain-soaked and headed north.
