like real people do

ii

It's a busy Saturday morning-as is standard in Plató during weekend brunch.

While Leanna was in the kitchen making another batch of her famous cinnamon rolls, people from all over town filed in. Valerie was on the far booth to the left, paper and pen in hand as she was engaged in a little drawing competition with her best friend (who also happens to be Maddie's son). On the other hand, Ryan was waiting tables, as he usually did on the weekends-it was more for the money than anything else.

He was the first person Aga saw when he entered. Seeing how busy the restaurant was, he waited patiently by the door, but truth be told, his stomach was grumbling since he'd been anticipating this meal since last night. It didn't help that he saw all the good food being laid out in front of what seemed to be the entire population of Plainsboro. He would've come in earlier had he known how many people came here on the weekends.

Now, he knew (important for future reference). And he wasn't sure if he was speaking too soon, but it looked like he would become a regular brunch goer like the rest of the crowd. Food has always equaled comfort for him, and this was quite literally the taste of home that he needed.

"Mr. Montilla, table for?" It was Ryan who entertained him not long after.

"One. It's just me," he smiled at him, and he surmised Ryan was in a better mood because he mirrored the smile before looking around at the busy restaurant.

"Are you okay to take a counter seat? If not, you're first on the waiting list." His eyes darted between the notepad in his hand, the tables, and then back to his guidance counselor. "But I think quite a few people are leaving soon, so it won't be too long of a wait."

A table all to himself felt like too much, and the counter seat seemed like the best option-especially since he felt his stomach churn. "No, no. I'm good with a counter seat."

Then, he was being ushered to his spot in the cozy brunch hotspot. He promptly ordered an Americano, and of course, Tapa with fried rice and a sunny-side-up egg on the side. He barely looked at the menu before he dictated his order.

"Anything else?" He shook his head, no. "Okay, it'll be out in ten to fifteen minutes. I'll be back, Mr. Montilla!"

He took his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through his Facebook feed while waiting for his food-anything to distract him from how famished he was.

A door opened, and his gaze turned up and toward the sound. That was when he saw her, sleeves rolled up, apron on, and walking to the booth her daughter (he could only assume it was her daughter) was in. She kissed the girl on the head before placing two cinnamon rolls in front of her and her friend.

He observed her, noticed how cheery she was talking to a friend of hers-Maddie, he thinks is the other woman's name; they met once, he remembers. Shocked felt too big of a word, but that was how he felt when he saw the wide smile on her face-it was so different from the look on her face not twenty-four hours ago.

Maybe it was because she was in her element, with the people she loved in the same roof as her.

Or maybe yesterday was just an awful day. A small smile indented on his face, glad that she was okay. Ever since their encounter, his mind wandered to her. He went here for the Tapa, yes, but it would be a lie if he denied wanting to see her, too.

Caught up with his staring (read: gawking), he didn't notice that Ryan arrived with his food, placing the warm plate and the hot cup of coffee in front of him, "enjoy!"

"Thanks, Ryan," he smiled, excited about the dish that was in front of him.

The smell of the delicious food wafted up to his senses, and it brought fond memories of home. He lifted his spoon and fork up, ready to dig in, but it was disrupted by a pat on his shoulder, "hey!"