Notes From a Bibliophile: “Holidaze” or Secret Code

I set down my book as the carols play overhead and latte and drip are ordered at the counter. I remember the holiday presence.

Nostalgic, I loudly hear the restroom code asked for. Twelve-ten the barista says, lidding a plastic cup, not even looking toward the guy who asked for the secret code.

What would we do without humanity’s secret codes, huh? The everyday chores and routine mean nothing without the knowledge needed to get to the things that really matter to us. If no goal or want, desire or care leads us to the next thing, then what is the use of anything?

That’s what I think at the moment anyway. Was it last week? Sometime in November? Is it all a fictitious recreation. . . . There’s something in there, somewhere. A secret code, maybe.

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