I didn’t even know how I got there. I looked up and I’d suddenly arrived.
I sat in the drive thru as I had hundreds of times before, bathed in the soft, red glow of brake lights, and quietly cursed whatever part of my brain that drew me there. I studied the menu like I’d stumbled across some foreign establishment, which wasn’t the case at all. I was practically family. I knew Maria, the cashier whose son played trumpet in the band. I’d befriended Anna, who was working there in the midst of her third trimester and wasn’t sure if she’d come back after welcoming her baby boy into the world. I was some weird stranger to them, some guy who was overly polite, some guy who they probably questioned whether or not he had any friends. Point is, I’m familiar with the place.