My friend Clare had a vision she was going to die young. Three weeks ago, she went suddenly to be with Jesus.

It was time to face it.

I was standing on the High Street of my former hometown in England, breath freezing in the afternoon sun. I pushed the door and went in.

They’ve turned my Starbucks into a Paperchase. I do not approve. But I’m finding it hard to be the level of bitter that I’d like to be.

I actually like Paperchase.

I didn’t mean to buy anything. I was really just there to say goodbye to the coffee house I used to call my second office. But the next thing I knew I had a purple felt journal in my hand and I was handing over money.

“So purple’s your favorite color,” the girl at the till said, gesturing to my fingernails. Purple.

Right.

It is.