below.
        “Ahh, Starbuck’s,” I said dreamily.
        Kyle’s face sobered. “I guess you want to go there.”
        “Well, yeah.”
        It was a small place and crammed with humanity, one impromptu line to order, another for pick up, everyone focused on their phones or companions, everyone in mid-conversation. Miraculously, we found a tiny table near the front
        As we relaxed, an attractive young woman in a white sweater with perky, bouncy breasts stood nearby doctoring her drink. She looked thirty-something, straight black hair cut neatly across her forehead. I saw Kyle assessing her. Then as she left, his eyes followed her out the door and down the street.
        He turned back to me. “Boy!”
        I assessed him. “You liked that, huh?”
        “Boy oh boy.”
        A bright red convertible pulled up just outside the window. Two women, one a Marilyn Monroe clone with porcelain skin and a clingy red dress, the other an older woman with a weary expression and thick, dark layers of clothing, climbed out and stood on the sidewalk, looking lost. They walked up and down the street several times looking for someone. Then a white van pulled next to their convertible, they conferred with the driver, pulled several suitcases and shopping bags from their car, climbed into the van and it pulled into traffic and disappeared.
        We looked at one another.
        “Are they going to just leave that car there?”
        We marveled over this. “It looks like it. I wonder what that’s all about.”
        “I don’t know.”
        Twenty minutes later, we walked along the lower level of Stockton through the tunnel all the way to Chinatown with its fish markets, odors, and endless commotion, then to Columbus Street, City Lights Books and the bar next door to it, Vesuvius. We had a drink, then headed up Columbus to the TransAmerica Tower and finally Market Street and the Montgomery Street BART station.
        Another BART train hurtled us under the bay, then rose back up to daylight and floated over Oakland’s color and geometry.
        “What was your favorite part of the day?” Kyle said, breaking the silence.
        I looked at him, shielding my eyes from the sun. “I think the magnitude of it all. I feel like I’ve been bombarded with stimuli. I’m kind of numb, but in a good way.”