Moon Coffee Machine At Leo Sims ((TOP))
I slid into the passenger seat. The car smelled like sweat and machines. The floor mats were indistinct gray and crunchy with maker detritus: dead batteries, coffee cups, multidriver bits, USB cables, and cigarette-lightercharger adapters. I put my head back on the headrest and looked out the grimy windows through slitted eyes as he got into the driver's side and started the engine, then killed the podcast that started blasting from the speakers.
Moon Coffee Machine at Leo Sims
I got up and padded to the window and pulled the curtains back. A little dust rained down from the rods and made me sneeze. Out the window, framed perfectly by it like an HD shot in a documentary, was the moon, so big and bright it looked like a painted set lit up with a spotlight. We both stared at it for a moment. "It's the moon illusion," he said. "Makes it seem especially big because we don't have anything to compare it to. Once it dips a little lower on the horizon and the roofs and tree branches are in the same plane, it'll seem small again. That's the Sturgeon moon. August's moon. My favorite moon, the moon you sometimes get at the burn." It was almost time for the burn, and my email had been filled with a rising babble of messages about photovoltaics and generators, costumes and conductive body paint, bikes and trailers, coffee and dry ice, water and barbecues and charcoal and sleeping bags. Normally, all this stuff would be a steadily rising chorus whose crescendo came when we packed the latest Gadgets into the van, wedged tight amid groceries and clothes and tents, and closed the doors and turned the key in the ignition. 041b061a72