On a random morning this past August, I woke up to discover that I was out of almond milk. It’s a crucial component in my coffee ritual, so I ambled sleepily to the nearest grocery store for a new carton. My hair was still unbrushed, and there was nothing in my pockets but my phone and a $5 bill.
It was around 7am. Rose gold sunlight dripped from Brooklyn’s brick buildings to otherwise untouched sidewalks. Quiet cars hummed by, en route to work, and birds chirped in looped flight between rooftops.