Sugar Packet | Madrid

Drizzly morning about 10:30 in Madrid, I needed to use a toilet. WC in first cafe was as cramped and unsanitary as my bowels.

Relief was a found at a cafe populated by a of bunch street workers: meter maids, mail carriers and jack-hammer operators.

Afterwards, I found a spot at the counter. Guy next to me was eating toast that had tomato smeared on it. I am dumb and could not recall the name of the dish. When the barman gestured toward to me make my order I nodded toward to the guy with the toast. Not a word was spoken. I opened my two-day old Guardian and began to act like this was my usual morning place and I was deep in my usual morning routine.

A cortado came to me. It was good, I drank it right down.

A few minutes later, a plate of toast smeared with tomato was set in front of me. I ordered another cortado. This was the sugar packet.