Iced Coffee and a Shrine

It’s been a long time since I’ve written about my love of Dunkin Donuts. It’s still there, and I still go daily. I go to a different DD now, one right by my house. But, yes, they know me, which makes me feel quite honored really. When I walk inside, they yell “Hi Jen!” in unison. It makes me smile.

Longer than me writing about DD is me actually seeing my stalker. Do you remember him? Oh his paneled station wagon. His shrine of me in the back (I assume). Well this morning I drove over to DD for my iced coffee – some mornings I walk and it’s one of my favorite things about the morning – but today I drove.

As I pulled in the parking lot, I saw it. Like a 20-carat diamond catching my attention so did this paneled station wagon.


My love of all things familiar I did a double, triple take. Oh. My. Gosh. It is my stalker. He’s found me!

The wagon looked the same, though more dented. I could barely see his face as I drove through the parking lot. It looked the same, though older, as mine does, too, and I saw a flash of gray hairs.

I mean I have so many questions. Where have you been? Did you find a new DD girl to stalk? And the most important. Do you still have the shrine of me in your wagon?


In all seriousness, I want to move away from here so badly. I talk about it all the time. But, for me, there is something amazing about my little life here where “everybody knows your name”. And that my stalker is back – there are no words.

I can’t wait to go to Dunkin tomorrow and see if he’s there. Should I park next to him and say hi?

Author: jlee5879

Office manager by day...struggling writer by night

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s