I sat up the back at a sunny table.
He walked in and took the couch. I had seen him on the way in. He had been talking on the phone.
He had that air of someone who was unrushed but constantly running at high pressure.
While we waited for our orders, I read a book.
He opened his laptop and took 3 phone calls.
He was loud enough that I discovered that he wasn't supposed to be working but an urgent meeting had come up today.
All 3 phone calls asked how he was.
He was in that sort of wonderful state of pure execution. Constraints are set and you have to pull it off.
He ate with laptop open.
In the meantime, I would pause my meal to pick up my book.
I finished the book then and there. It was a great read.
I was grateful for the moment. It felt so indulgent with the contrast to his day - the day I'd lived many of, the day I could have had more of.
When I finished eating, I took out my laptop to review my day while I sipped coffee.
When I looked up he had gone, leaving his empty plate.
We had chosen the same dish.
We had experienced a very different breakfast.