November 2014 One sea-salted morning, you linger at the order counter in a New England coffee shop. You want to surprise your significant other—who has a sweet tooth—with a breakfast treat. You’re trying to decide between a cinnamon sugar donut or chocolate-glazed. The woman behind you in line sighs and says, “Dolt.” “Excuse me?” You turn and face this woman, this broad-shouldered, large and tall woman, perhaps in her 50s or 60s. She wears a plain housedress and sensible shoes and stockings stretched taught across her calves. “You heard me,” she says, unapologetic. She is shocking in her audacity and lack of shame. “You’re being a dolt. Holding up the line. Sugar or sugar. It’s all the same. Just choose and get on with it.”