zk/writing/post-self/mitzvot/ioan/001.md

Ioan Bălan --- 2350

How has this become my life? Ioan thought, as ey always did, when stepping away from home to the now familiar café.

May had, as she always did, dotted her nose against eir cheek, licked at eir nose a little too wetly, and said, "Good luck, have fun, do not die," and then ey stepped from home to arrive in front of the squat wood paneled coffee shop. The same sign proclaiming "Open 24 hours" fading in the sun. The same chipper baristas. The same sparklingly clean espresso machine. The same couch in the corner.

The same thing, month after month, stepping into the coffee shop to order the same coffee --- delicious as always --- and wait for the same True Name to arrive.