Chapter 10: Andy
Jumpy is one of those little ma-and-pa coffee shops that managed to survive the onslaught of Starbucks. It’s in a tiny storefront on Lincoln, a few blocks north of Fullerton, and not far at all from DePaul University.
I arrive a half hour early and debate whether I should actually order coffee or not. The warmth of a nice Americano sounds tempting, but then I think of how jumpy I am myself at the prospect of meeting up with Carlos once again after a few decades have passed. How strange is that? Who can make that claim?
Anyway, caffeine will probably do nothing more than raise my blood pressure, cause my heart to beat through my chest or burst, and probably make me even more nervous than I already am.
Herbal tea wins. I order chamomile from a sweet-looking red-haired wo
