"Lovely stack. Can’t wait to drizzle maple syrup over them" I said. The humour was lost. Fortunately. I’d stopped a small cafe and grocery store in the village of Richards. Established 2009. Meant just to enjoy a coffee indoors but quickly succumbed to the notion of a few pancakes. Side of bacon. Despite my tardy efforts at wit with my server, they were the nicest I’d ever tasted. Even if they took quite a while to come. Leaving me thinking I’d been forgotten.
Thoughts drifting back to Alaska. Small roadhouse I’d stopped in for breakfast after a night’s wild camping over the border in British Columbia. My server leaning across the table. How, she asked, did I want my eggs? So wanted to say poached. But just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead muttering scrambled.
