between tables. She realized her heart was pounding and her palms were sweaty. No more caffeine today, she decided. She checked her phone. Fifteen minutes to go. She let her eyes roam, scanning the morning neighborhood crowd. She noticed an elderly couple holding hands as they took a slow walk. She saw a happy, laughing man and woman pushing a stroller with a happy laughing toddler occupant. She saw a middle-aged married couple few tables away, chatting cheerfully. She knew it was an exaggeration, but right at that moment she felt like the only single person in San Francisco. It had been so long since she'd been part of a couple that she'd forgotten what it felt like. Had she really held hands with Raymond on the street like that? Had she looked up into his eyes and laughed? Had they had cheerful conversations? Had there really been good times before it all went to shit? Of course. It had been good with Raymond -- right up until The Night of The Cigar. She'd been such a stupid, stupid girl. Roxie smiled tightly, recalling a conversation she'd had at that very same Starbucks table eight months before. Bea, Josie, and herself sat here, eyes wide and faces flushed, as Ginger described her hot and heavy hookup with Lucio Montevez, the famous nature photographer. With a perfectly straight face, Ginger assured everyone she was as starting menopause and was no longer fertile. What a crock! What a layer cake of delusional