Morning Riff.

The steam from my coffee lets me know what kind of day I’ll have. A couple of swirling wafts to the right and it’ll be a day filled with mundane drudgery and vapid conversations. A serpentine pillar straight up, dissipating by the edge of the lamp, and I know my wit will be in full gear, drawing laughs and invitations to a happy hour that I never intend to attend. But a gathering of steam that remains at the base of the coffee, lingering like a mist, now that’s when I know the day will get interesting; like seeing Sasquatch ride by on a unicorn kind of interesting.

Today is different though. The rising column of steam reaches the rim of the cup and then is whisked away in every direction. What kind of twisted prognostication is this? I could see Elvis at the bus stop, only to have a disappointing conversation about his gospel years. Or maybe I’ll be the one to ride a unicorn into work this time. Only time will tell, but the distant sound of hooves on the street makes me optimistic.