Our well-intentioned but misguided desires to root for the independents.
A couple of times a week I’ll walk with my wife to her subway stop before I head a few blocks uptown to my office on Union Square.
On the way to the subway is a Bluestone Lane coffee shop. Not long ago it was a plucky independent taking the start up plunge; now it’s successfully operating over 30 cafes and coffee shops.
Each time we consider heading in for a coffee, a pastry or an obligatory avocado toast there’s always a strange feel of quiet unease 
And no, it’s not that we’re fully immersed in the millennial trope of munching on smushed avocado in a Melbourne-styled cafe, opposite the Facebook office in downtown Manhattan. (Ok, maybe a little)
What pulls on us more is perhaps another despair our generation wrings its hands over.