Literal Latte

In Auckland, New Zealand, I was roosting in the common room of this crap budget flophouse, perusing my guidebook and gearing up to fly to Fiji soon despite a recent military coup, when the heated roundtable discussion of the relative cleanliness and cheapness of Kiwi backpacker hostels was interrupted by a scruffy young dolebludger[...]

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We planned it as a reconciliation, “a time to bury all the old dead,” as you called it, as the first small hard drops, like cutting remarks, splashed against the windshield, punctuating the silence that would stretch out like the road before us…

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