Arriving at John Zabka's

After arriving I double checked the time and location. No error. I was at the right place at the right time. But where was John? The front door was left open, which might've been his way of passively greeting me in, but having never been inside I chose to wait outside. Finally it was his girlfriend Cheryl who noticed me.

Inside was a small yet extremely well decorated space. Every object I saw on my way to the kitchen was bespoke. Not a single one-off lamp from
IKEA
or pseudo world art from Homegoods was in sight. You could tell that each thing in the room had a story behind it. It was a quick walkthrough before I was in the kitchen where I saw sitting within built-in wooden booths
John Zabka
on his
Macbook Pro
looking like the artist that he was. Next to the laptop, sitting idly in his right hand was an enormous coffee mug.

"John." Cheryl said in a friendly but hey pay attention voice.

"Oh. Bob! Is it already evening?"

"I'm not catching you at a bad time am I?"

"No. As in when I'm in sometimes it's great to step away from. You don't want any cold coffee do you?"

"I'm sure Bob would rather have something like a wine?"

"No not tonight. I'll take a tea. I don't mind drinking caffeine this late."

"Great. We got some good matcha."

"I'll take care of it." Cheryl said and left us to chat. Even though she was just several feet making the
matcha
it felt like we were left a lone. John and I. Finally. Speaking in his house. I felt my stomach growl. I hoped that John couldn't hear.  

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