After drop-off, I discovered a mitten in my bag that should have been on my daughter's hand. I also discovered that I had enough time before work to sit in the cafe instead of ordering through the takeaway window.
Usually I used that interval for groceries. That morning the groceries could wait, the school had my number, and I was not due at my desk for another half hour.
When the person at the counter asked whether I was staying, I said yes before I could turn the coffee into something to carry between jobs.
The morning still had edges.
I put a reminder on my phone for when I needed to leave. I kept the phone available because the school might call. A break did not require pretending I had no responsibilities.
Then I sat by the window and drank the coffee from a cup with a handle.
There was a conversation behind me about somebody's renovation. I heard enough to be grateful that my own kitchen was merely untidy. A dog outside refused to move until its person had finished a pastry.
I did not need the whole day.
For a few minutes, I considered what else would fit into the remaining time. A pharmacy visit, perhaps, if I walked quickly. I stayed in the chair.
The reminder sounded when I expected it. I returned the cup, checked the mitten was still in the bag and went to work.
The afternoon contained the usual arrangements, including returning the mitten and discovering its partner had been in a coat pocket all along.
I would not describe the coffee as a new routine. Some mornings the gap is absent. On that morning it existed, and I had spent it sitting somewhere I wanted to sit rather than proving how many things could fit inside it.
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