“Well you’re a little early; most of the shops don’t open up here until 9:00.  You can stay here if you like.  It beats being out in the cold.”

She poured me a cup of coffee and left a menu.  The hospitality of the diner was enhanced by the smell of fresh baked bread wafting through the ventilation system.  I took a deep breath and sighed. Breakfast for me on a weekday usually consisted of a raisin bagel and black coffee from the kiosk in the lobby of the firm’s headquarters.

            “My husband Fred runs the bakery next door,” Elvira explained when returned with a small pitcher of cream.  “He provides the Lady Bug and the whole town with fresh rolls, muffins, bread etc. every morning.  It’s more of a hobby than a job, he loves to do it.  Fred says there is no point in spending your life doing something you don’t love.  You’ve got a choice so why not have fun.”

            “I wish my job felt like fun, lately it has been nothing but work, work, and more work.”

            “Well, maybe you need a new line of work, or a new line of play.”

            Just then the front door banged open and a tall, thin, copper haired man, wearing a red flannel shirt and ragged blue jeans, blew in.

            “Shut the door, Paul!  You’re letting out all the heat.”

            “Sorry.”  He came over to the counter and sat down next to me.  Bright blue eyes met mine.  He stuck out a large calloused hand and grinned. “Paul Dumont, glass blower.”

            “Emy Burns, visitor.”  I grasped his hand firmly.  “It’s nice to meet you.  I’ve wanted to visit here for some time and today I am playing hooky.”

            “Good for you, everyone needs a mental health day now and again.”

            “Hmm.  I like that idea.  I told the office that I was sick.  This helps me justify that story to myself.”

            “Whatever helps you through the day,” said Elvira.  “You want the usual Paul?”

            “Elvira makes the best Eggs Benedict in three states.”

            “Sounds good.  Why not splurge on a day like this.  That’s what I’m getting,” I replied as I handed her the menu.  Elvira took the orders and disappeared through the swinging doors into the kitchen.  I sipped my coffee and tried not to stare at Paul.

            “So Emy, why did you decide to come here on your mental health day?  You could have goofed off anywhere.”

            “Oh, I thought I might get some ideas for my own pieces.  I do pottery, mostly vases.”

            “Really, I’d like to see your work sometime.”

            “Well, you’re in luck.  I have some of my things out in the trunk of my car.  I was taking them over to the Creativity and Crafts store in town.  I have a booth there.”

            He smiled.