There is something eerie about the starbucks where I sit programming, around 7 pm. It closes at 9 pm, yet it feels closed already. Employees push mops around. The temperature drops. The light seems a little dimmer.
It is the witching hour.
Out of nowhere, the six or seven people left here start singing happy birthday to Berry, who has made us all many an espresso. We’re on pitch. Somebody is harmonizing, and we actually sound pretty good! Birthday girl is genuinely touched.
It’s a little warmer in here.