Decaf
“I’m sorry, we ran out,” the barista said.
“Of what?”
“Coffee.”
He stared at her.
“This is a café.”
“Yes.”
“And you have no coffee.”
“Only decaf.”
Silence.
“Fine,” he said. “Decaf Americano. Ice.”
She smiled. Relieved.
“You shouldn’t have caffeine this late anyway.”
“Oh, you’re a doctor now?”
“I read things.”
He nodded.
“Add an energy drink.”
He paid. Took the cup with seasonal print. Snowflakes.
Drank half.
Cracked the can open with his teeth.
Poured the energy drink into the cup.
Didn’t break eye contact.
The barista went pale.
He turned. Walked.
That’s when he bumped into her.
“Sorry,” he said.
She smiled. He stopped.
“Wow,” he said.
“What?”
“That smile. Best thing that happened to me today.”
She flushed. Dimples. Freckles. Glint in her eyes.
“That’s… nice.”
He glanced at her hand. Ring.
Back to her eyes.
“Bad news,” he said. “They only serve decaf.”
She laughed.
“That’s tragic.”
He raised his cup. Nodded, Left.
He sat. Opened a book. Didn’t read.
A few minutes slipped away.
“Your coffee looks terrible,” she said.
He looked up. She sat nearby.
“It is.”
“Why?”
“I made it worse. On purpose.”
“Punishing yourself?”
She smiled. He shrugged.
“I’m an asshole,” he said.
“I don’t believe you.”
“You should.”
She leaned closer.
“I’m—”
“No,” he said.
She paused.
“Why not?”
He held her gaze. He stood.
“You’re married,” he said.
She froze.
“You’re unhappy,” he went on. “I could fix that. For a night.”
Silence.
“I know exactly what to say. What to do. Morning would find you in my bed.”
Her eyes widened.
“And then I’d ruin it,” he said. Stepped back. “You deserve better.”
Her eyes softened.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Merry… whatever you celebrate.”
She laughed. Warm. Real.
He smiled.
“That’s my cue.”
“Why?”
“Because if you laugh again, I’ll stay.”
A beat.
“And I shouldn’t.”
He turned.
Walked out.
-ck