All dressed for... (part 1)

Long black stubble sprinkled the porcelain. I cupped the faucet and aimed at the hairiest places in the sink. Pulling back my hair I dropped it over my shoulder. My palms squeaked across my face as I splashed away the shaving cream.

After conditioning, I combed my fingers through my hair, unleashing the curls. Oatmeal and Shea butter vapored through my bleached shirt. I let my locks strengthen before putting on a collared jacket.

Walking out through the garage door, I tiptoed through the muddy patches of grass drowned by the sump pump. Dad waited for me in the Mercedes. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"Lincoln Square, there's a nice little coffee shop. I wonder, can you tell the difference between good and bad coffee?"

"I know what I like."

"I can't even drink something like Starbucks anymore," I said.

Dad merged onto 94 East.

"Hello. Yeah, I thought you'd call at 11. You still want us to come out? OK, we can be there by 4." Dad glanced at me, "We'll get coffee next time." I pulled out my Iphone.

We passed Cicero and drove all the way to Kimball, Polish Town. Dad parked at Dunkin Donuts and we waited...