Sally sips on her coffee as her taxi slips past the big mall. A temple to insane consumerism. Nope. No thanks she thinks. She wants something REAL. Something that screams that it has a heart and soul! What goes good with java in the morning? A newspaper? Sure. A nice pastry.
Down the street she whispers to her cab driver...further down into the dark lit district of the city where the old ladies still speak the Mother Tongue. There by the cardboard house for the toothfairy necklace homeless craftsman...there it is....the Serbian bakery!
That will fill her bill and get her jets fired up before she heads uptown to the long tall glass building where she toils as a robotic spirit...paper shuffling and filing and making copies. A worker bee in a behive of monotony.
Ah, but the Serbian bakery brings her back to her roots to her truth. A connection. A companion
for her black dark coffee. A nice tip for the cabbie.
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