The first one didn’t taste like much of anything, but the second one, on the second of my three days in a row at Loom, had mild notes of cinnamon and a citrus finish that only began to bloom after it had warmed for a few minutes. I was still making my way through the Chatterbox section, which I felt like I had been revising for-fucking-ever; but I could see a stopping point, and I could myself working on the painter-in-the-desert section before too long; and I was even having some ideas about how to knit the disparate sections together. I didn’t know if I was going to get the third day, because I was supposed to work later—but I was already scheming for ways to make it happen.
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