Let your chai tea latte runneth over.
______ has graying temples with a thin patch at the back, rimless eye-glasses and a satisfied masculine air. He smells faintly of cigarette smoke and late nights in the lab.
And then, like Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, she completes the story.
But he orders gnocchi anyway, saying in his slightly raspy from smoking too many cigarettes voice, “This could be dangerous.”
Wonderful find, Manish. ChaiTeaLatte’s prose is spare without being shallow. The perfect meld of density and sparsity (sp?). Hmmmm, it makes me feel like taking out Italo Calvino’s Six Memos for the Next Milennium. The moment is past, but the essays are spectacular exercises in lightness.