Watkins inspected our kitchen with the seriousness of a building surveyor.

The first customer was a man in a fluorescent safety vest who ordered black coffee and a sandwich to take to the docks.

He paid, thanked us, and went back into the rain.

It wasn’t dramatic.

No violins played.

Nobody announced that my life had changed.

I loved it.

In the afternoon a reporter came by to ask about the café’s hiring policy.