Sometimes the smell of stale bread wafts up from my coat pockets and transport me back to the coffee shop date I had with Alex. We sat across from each other, sipping mediocre cappuccinos, trying to fill the conversation void with forced laughter. In hindsight, I wonder what drew me to his collection of antique spoons – a peculiar hobby of his. His eyes twinkled when he talked about the history of each spoon, making me believe that maybe I saw a future in him. But when we got to dessert, and he started talking about the societal constructs that influence relationships I realized we spoke different dialects.
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