“Thoughts? Feelings? Emotions?” A smile is playing at the corners of my server’s mouth.

“So… many… feelings…” I reply in a state of overwhelm. The passion fruit pavlova’s mess of textures (crunchy, creamy, squirty) and flavors (kumquat, grapefruit, pistachio) has every bell in my mental slot machine going ding-ding-ding ! “I don’t exactly know what’s happening over here, but it’s intense.”

“I know,” my server whispers. Her eyes swell with compassion, and I tell her that she should consider becoming a therapist. Turns out she already is one, and only works at the sensational Rory’s Place a couple shifts a week. Her emotional-processing services have already come in handy a couple times tonight, from the alarmingly bright pop of fennel pollen-dusted olives to a mindblowing plate of baked

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