San Francisco

Every Wednesday morning for the past month, we've been at the same coffee shop on Valencia Street. You always order an oat milk latte. I'm the one with the sketchbook. Last week you smiled at me and I nearly dropped my cup.

Every morning for three months, you had my oat milk latte ready before I even ordered. When I moved neighborhoods, I never got to say a proper goodbye. You made my mornings brighter.

You were in Dolores Park with the friendliest orange tabby on a leash. I was having the worst day and you could tell. You said his name was Mango and let me sit with him for twenty minutes. It helped more than you know.

On the 38 Geary bus you were softly singing a lullaby in what I think was Tagalog to your baby. The whole bus was quietly listening. It was the most peaceful moment I've experienced in this city.