Just a few days ago,  in the shopping center down the street from my house, there was Not Starbucks. And now, THERE IS STARBUCKS:

It’s as if the store itself is shipped to its new home in large box, then opened by a person who yesterday ceased to be but today is a barista, and out comes cake pops and sacks of burnt beans and crate and barrel cake stands and green aprons and umbrellas and wall art, and it is assembled instantly, and you are pulled inside by your own curiosity, maybe this one is different, and inside is the hum of the walk in refrigerator, of normalcy, as if the place always has been, and never was Not.

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