We were sitting on benches, my new coffee mate, Anthony, and I. Side by side, half-listening to the baritone rumble of washers and dryers in the laundromat behind us, we watched the cars on Key West’s busy White Street glide by as the island slowly woke up on a Saturday morning.
I’d only just met Anthony, a 65-year-old Key West resident of 17 years by way of Schenectady, N.Y., at the cafe, but he was already trying to school me on what matters in the city. We were holding twin plastic foam cups, each containing the thick creamy cafe con leche that White Street Sandwich Shop brews from its perch inside this laundromat.