My name ought to be mounted somewhere on this table, except for the fact that nobody but me would care, of course.
I’m sitting in a booth where I must have sat a thousand times before. It’s in a Whataburger restaurant in the Birmingham suburb of Trussville. Until I moved to a different suburb three years ago, this was my home away from home for many years.
When this place opened, it was the only restaurant near my house that was open 24 hours a day and had WiFi. Since I worked from home at the time and often welcomed the chance to get out, this became my second office. I was here at all hours of the day and night. All the employees knew me by name.
I have no reason to be over here today. I almost never come to this part of town anymore. But today is the second time recently that I’ve felt drawn to drive over here for no apparent reason. But I think I know why I’m here.

Can love last? Man holding hand of his dying wife gives me hope
Anarchist vs. minarchist debate misses the shift to post-statist world
We’re becoming so selfish that our old ‘social scripts’ are dying
As financial pain piles up, things just might turn ugly in America
Existential crisis makes me ask: Can I ever trust you to love me?
Is ‘majority rule’ moral even when the majority don’t want freedom?
Was Columbus a hero or a special kind of evil monster? Neither one
Why fixate on nationality, religion and ethnicity of some mass killers?
World is an insane roller coaster and I need this insanity to stop