“You are going to have to take the rest of these croissants to work with you, I cannot be trusted alone in the house with a half-dozen buttery, crispy pillows of deliciousness."
"Well, I wouldn't have brought so many, but that place will only sell them if you buy eight or more."
I laugh. A Logan Square conundrum. "I know. One of the neighborhood quirks."
"You hipsters with your crazy convolutions."
I laugh. The transitional predominantly Latino neighborhood I moved into almost fifteen years ago has indeed become hipster central. Full of young men in skinny jeans and ironic T-shirts and scraggly facial hair, and young women in cotton sundresses with motorcycle boots, all blithely riding about on their vintage Schwinns with earbuds in, making motorists stabby.”