A couple times each month, I take a little time out of my hectic schedule to stop at Panera Bread in my neighborhood. Whether I just need a quiet space near the fireplace to write or a warm bowl of chicken soup to offer me a little comfort before going home, I treat myself to that little peace of heaven.

Each time I go there, I always see Joyce — perfectly coiffed cornrows, skin the color or burnt sienna,  a smile as big as Texas, and a hospitable presence to match. I always say “How are you today, Joyce” and she always says “Amazing!” In all the years I’ve been going there, our conversations have been friendly and brief — the time it takes to order soup, a soft dinner roll, iced green tea, and a blueberry muffin. This time was different. I told her that I can always count…