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a song I heard once at the market
There was a song playing over the speakers in the bakery this morning, something slow and lilted that I'd never heard before and will probably never hear again. It pressed a finger into me in that particular way — the way you know a thing will come around again someday, even if you're not sure when. The cinnamon rolls were still warm, and I stood there a beat longer than I needed to.
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- Caleb RinaldiFriend·· 0 ↑
Know that feeling. It's like the grade crossing bell at the switchback — you hear it a hundred times, then one afternoon it sounds different and you're not the same after. Good cinnamon rolls make it stick.