It was a beautiful morning, and I had just stepped out of the subway station, lugging with me a huge stack of comics that I had bought the night before but did not bring home yet. Although my friend and I are in our early twenties approaching mid-twenties​.. we were seeking out the joys of childish dreams as we did back when we were little school children. This day it was over the idea of climbing a beautiful old tree inside of Inman Park, just adjacent to the bohemian and colorful neighborhood​ in Atlanta named Lil 5 Points.

I met with my friend telling her about a small pub with a kickass breakfast menu I went to before. So together we walked through the park towards the shops filled with vintage clothes, organic foods, collector books and artwork as far as the eye can see. Eventually we came across the little pub, with it's outdoor seating made with the stumps of trees. It was the same location but it was different. The recession had switched up owners, but fortunately for us, we still came across something amazing.

I had a thoroughly interesting night before, as my fraternity was holding a "Heaven​ and Hell" party, which in the morning, not only left me refreshed, but a bit eased with alcohol and admittedly high off of other stuff. In my dreamy dazed, we sat and waited for our food, a perfection of our southern classics if anyone cares to come down here. I remember gazing happily at the warm sunlight beaming down through the factory style window in the pub.

Though he was no significance​ before or after in my life, the waiter of the hour displayed himself as a man of my dreams. A Scottish man with dark hair and the most gorgeous accent, took note on my giant stack of comics and confessed himself a fellow comic geek. He was cool and pleasant, dazzling and entertaining​ us with his beautiful presentation​s of some of the fanciest southern grits and breakfast fare I as a southern belle have ever encountered.​

I wrote playful hearts on the check, and my friend and I went out to the street vendors, later finding the charming waiter out before a blown glass vendor, chattering about the smoke of a good water pipe and the value of crafted art.

It was a good meal, a relaxing day, and a dear memory. But something more, to my little single mind, something to dream about. The idea of someone into the artistic flairs, the comic book enchantment,​ who smokes without being obsessed with having two joints in every breaking moment. A man who lives day to day.. that's a man I'd like one day to meet less briefly and more intimately. But for now, it's just a day dream of mines.