Sunday brunch at Le Pain Quot’ downtown, almost noon, we were two at the table with room for more. Then Jill, then India, then Tom. And the food kept coming, the basket of breads, the hams, the jams, the gruyère, the boiled eggs, the croissants, the almond pound cake. And the coffees and teas filled and refilled. And laughs and stories and laughs again. And then we were awake and happy, and Tom said, “More coffee?” and pourquoi pas.



We walked east after. Grand Street through Little Italy and Chinatown was hustle and bustle and the sun coming out in a blueing sky.