On the walk back home, I started to feel that a cup of coffee and a doughnut might not be a bad idea, so I bought a newspaper and a magazine and stopped in at Dunkin Donuts. A middle-aged woman stood at the cash register talking with a young woman. The young woman was saying: I believed him when he told me that I was no good…; the sentence faded out as I walked up to the counter. A young woman behind the counter came up and said to me, Can I help you? The middle-aged woman said: You don’t have to believe that, honey. Don’t believe what he told you. The young woman who had first been talking glanced at me, but I studiously ignored her, and the middle-aged woman, and said: Could I have a medium decaf black no sugar please. The middle-aged woman said, You’re not still with him, are you. No, said the young woman. The middle-aged woman began moving away from the counter, saying: Keep talking honey, I just have to head to the bathroom. The young woman tried to keep talking for a minute, but that was really the end of their conversation.

I paid for my coffee and doughnut, and sat down to read the newspaper. The middle-aged woman sat down at the table nearest the front windows that look south, out across Route 6 towards the New Bedford Marina. I read an article in the magazine. The morning sun gave way to high thin clouds. I stood up to go. In the winter, when there are no boats at the marina, there is nothing to block the view: you can stand inside Dunkin Donuts and see the lighthouse on Palmer Island, and the hurricane barrier, and through the entrance in the hurricane barrier you can see out into Buzzard’s Bay, and maybe glimpse the Elizabeth Islands in the distance; and the sky looks huge, and the whole world looks amazing and bright; even the trash blowing across Route 6 is incredible.