»These are the people that you meet.

This morning stopped for the usual at Coopers, where Jeremy was working solo. He knew my favourite mug already (!!) but asked whether I like the espresso "short" or "medium." I paused; I've never confronted that question, as the cheery baristas behind the counter have always pulled the coffee just right. "Medium?" I hazarded, remembering that the mug looks right when it's about 2/3 full of foamy espresso.
And indeed medium was the ticket.
Missed the 8.07, so I lingered in the chilly air and read the newspaper (singular: the Chronicle hasn't been appearing regularly on my doorstep the past week.
I arrived at the Caltrain station just as the 8.07 was pulling out -- fifteen minutes late?! and sat on a bench to read the Examiner, the funny pages of which become shorter each week (at least they still carry Luann). Alas for the two-newspaper town!
An elderly woman on the bench next to me was ringing someone, trying to find a phone number. The voice on the other end started dispensing the digits, but the woman scrambled for a pen and paper. Handy with the Sharpie, I handed her the pen and the newspaper, and she shakily wrote down the numbers. She said into the phone: "If I miss the train, there's a nice young man with a bicycle who will give me a ride." (She got off in Palo Alto.)