That is the part I want to end on, and it is not the coffee.

I stayed.

It was twenty past ten on a Saturday morning in June.

I had nowhere to be.

I had a bag with nothing in it that needed handing to anybody.

I was not going to make a telephone call or fill in a form or solve one single thing for one single person, and there was no part of me that morning that believed that made me useless.

I sat on a concrete ledge at the base of a brick pillar outside the Hennepin Avenue station for fifty-five minutes.