A Day With Davin Shields
The heat rose in the frothing pitcher, and the palms of Davin’s hand started to burn. The words barely came through the scream of the steam wand on his espresso machine. The woman who had ordered the latte was concerned…
Writer. Father. Humanitarian.
The heat rose in the frothing pitcher, and the palms of Davin’s hand started to burn. The words barely came through the scream of the steam wand on his espresso machine. The woman who had ordered the latte was concerned…