It was a Saturday that the ex and I had broken up, and por Monday morning, though I was por NO means “over” the breakup, I was feeling ever so slightly hopeful; o at least looking adelante, hacia adelante to a fun breakfast with a friend.



One of my male coworkers was (is) like a brother to me; we were hired on at the restaurant around the same time, and over the six and a half years until this point in the story, he and I had become close and occasionally planned a breakfast outing to catch up on the events of each other’s lives. A week prior to this aforementioned Monday, he and I had planned to meet for...