We crossed paths at the corner. Me with a cold brew from the local spot, a little honey—honey. Her, aimed at the Starbucks counter like a moth that already knew the light.

“What's the difference between the two?”

I paused. There’s an elitist answer to that question, and I went with the gentle one.

“The beans,” I said. “This shop sources their own. Roasts them too.”

She nodded and kept walking, and that was the end of us…