I had entered more noisily than I should have, given that there was a poet on stage, but he seemed to have finished for the moment, perhaps taking a moment to let the mood change before he went on with whatever he planned to recite next. It had been a female poet whom my friend in the City had wanted me to see, though.

And there was Molly. She was peeking at me, and I didn't miss the rather subtle things she was doing to draw my eye in her direction. I hesitated for a moment, unsure if the poet was about to resume; if not, I would walk over to the bar, but if so, I would wait until after the performance of his next piece. I have great respect for anyone willing to put that much of his or her soul on public display.

Oh, and there was the barrista, as well. If I hadn't been looking at Molly, I might not have noticed her -- but, if not for Molly, I would have focused my attention on her, instead. And I was so glad that I had been talked into coming down here this week.