It's been a while since I've actually gone and eaten a full meal in a restaurant. To clarify, I ate at the outdoor converted space in the diner's parking lot where tables were equally spaced apart further than pre-covid days. There was a canopy above lending shade to patrons, but sunlight still managed to filter through the little gaps. It's not quite fall season in the Bay Area, but it was definitely a fine day to finally eat out for once.

Different conversations floated around, most of them were stories about what people would do “when this is over” or “while things are the way they are”. A group of elderly people who had finished off their plates ages ago were still sitting, catching up with one another as if they haven't seen each other in ages – no doubt. There was a family with little kids, the oldest running around an empty space under the bright sun, chasing his shadow. Another couple was seated somewhere nearby, huddled while talking as if in a world of their own.

As for me, while waiting for my longed-after french toast, I was busy folding origami with the restaurant's paper menu. The SO and I had gone through folding hats, boats, planes, and the square folding game – and while the paper could still hold out, I was busy making my final paper crane while he was busy following instructions for a paper sumo. Breakfast then arrived the moment we were both done, as if it were a reward.