Saturday, January 15th, 2:45-3pm: Sizzle Pie on SW 10th & Burnside. I was pacing in front of the short end of Sizzle Pie on 10th, a 5’8” white chic in a gray or tan wool beanie, with thick dark tortoise shell glasses, chin length dark brown hair, a turquoise camo bomber jacket, a powder pink fleece scarf, and black pants: I remember so distinctly bcs it became a topic of our conversation. you, a 20-something black man a bit taller than me, thin, leaning against the wall, asked me if I smoked. I said no, but that I got asked that frequently and wondered why. you said it was in response to a certain fashion aesthetic. I’m sure I told you about my playlists. you talked about the racial envy of white men. then the acquaintance I was waiting to meet showed up and I had to go. I told you I really enjoyed talking with you, but neither of us were ready for the conversation to end. I so didn’t want to stop listening to your remarkable thoughts. I can’t believe I didn’t even get your name. I’ve been thinking about your brain since. I asked a Sizzle Pie employee and they seemed to know who you were and said you hang out there sometimes. I left a note for you, but so many people work there, who knows if they still know where it is. I’ve checked a few times and haven’t seen you. usually, I avoid people and just read, but I’d love to talk with you again: you’re absolutely brilliant. ice cream? my treat.