For the last few years, I’ve been convinced I do my best writing in this chair. It’s the perfect height, the perfect angle, the perfect location—right in front of Oslo Coffee, where I can swill strong americanos and people-watch and puppy-flirt whenever I need a break. When the first iteration of this chair fell apart, Oslo owner JD reordered it from Amazon “so I’d have one less thing to worry about” after I lost my job. When its replacement was stolen last week, I am sorry to report I broke down in tears. (This may have something to do with my overall blocks regarding writing my first book.) Today, a second replacement magically appeared. “JD reordered it again,” reported a barista blithely. “Someone really needed it.” The small kindnesses loom the largest.