Neighbor love

Last Sunday, I felt very seen. By the owner of the neighborhood bakery, no less. She texted me midday: “We have a Secret Sunday Bagel Club. I make a limited number of bagels, and only tell a few people I like. We sell them as bagel sandwiches. As it’s Pride weekend, I figure you could use sustenance. Want one?”

I received the message just before setting out on a detox run.

“Hell yes. Sesame, please. Be there in 30.”