There was a larger crowd than anticipated at the diner. We sat near the front entrance at a table for four. The waitress was clearly not feeling her best. When she arrived to take our orders, coughing, it was for her a strictly mechanical performance. There was only one chap sitting adjacent whom I knew slightly. Otherwise I confined my gaze directly in front or to the side, out the front door into the grey parking lot. The ceremony of eating was perfunctory. I was disappointed not to have enjoyed the meal with more zeal. Outside the rain poured.
After breakfast we drove to Kanata through the rain to do some shopping for items which we knew are not available locally. We rode almost speechless up and down the ribbon of shiny, black highway between the somber surrounding fields. Afterwards on our way home the drive was more compelling. I had apparently by then recovered from the inertia of the earlier morning and was again poised to appreciate the detail of life. Yet when we landed in the apartment I instantly prolonged myself in the large green leather chair and ottoman and dozed.
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