I pace in front of the restaurant - if I go in, I’ll forget this melody I’ve got going in my head, and my phone, on which I would record it as a voice memo, is currently back at work, charging.
I sing it to myself again, even as the wind kicks up, chilling my hands and cheeks in the cold winter breeze.
I write down some lyrics on an old napkin I dig out of my bag.
I sigh, looking longingly at the front door of the restaurant, then start to walk around the block, singing the melody to myself yet again.
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