No More Coffee

On those mornings when I just did not want to go to school, when it was too early to freeze and drive under the orange mercury lights and black sky, I would drive past the school and go to Medici's.

Medici's is a beautiful little bakery on 57th st in Hyde Park. You walk in and it is warm, smells great, and there are professors and students talking and eating. It is completely different then the dynamic I work in.

I walk in the second the open the door for business. There is a beautiful Mexican lady who is tiny and always smiles. And there is Charles, a skinny light skinned black man who always rings me up. Behind these two are a group of Mexican bakers who are always laughing and singing with their own radio playing spanish music while the front is filled with motown and old soul.

I got to know charles pretty well. He always had a good attitude, singing and joking around, with a dynamic style. Talked about working hard, leaving his girl and kids at home every morning around 4:30. I remember when he was telling me this the Maxwell song "Lifetime" was playing.

I usually do not get to Medicis on the weekend, but one sunday I had a friend visiting and wanted him to get a cinnamon role. When I walked in everyone was crying.

Charles had been shot and killed in the parking lot of his apartment complex on the southside.
He had four children.