I trudged my way home from work with the warm Indian Summer air on my neck. With the midwest summers it was always better to wake up to sun and walk home in it, compared to the winters where I hardly saw daylight. As I approached the door through our multicoloured, but subdued shitty architecture, hallway I could begin to smell dinner. You imagine mice have a similar sensation as they get closer to the cheese and inevitable reward. My reward, a yapping dog that unfortunately heard the buckle of my satchel I so desperately try and hide when marching towards the wooden door.
In between the dog’s barks I shout a “hey something smells good!” You both are dancing around a bit as you shuffle between one side of the counter to the other to cheesy 2000’s dance hits. “You two would make more progress if you put down the glass of wine” I say slyly and with a smile. I unwrap the satchel from my neck, reach down to pet the now subdued protection mutt, and sit down on a chair at the bar. She reaches into the fridge and hands me a beer. “Did I mention you are a mind reader?” I mutter to her as she hands me my favourite brew and returns to your momentarily paused dance party.