Coffee & Blood

Chapter One: A Tap on a Window

The smell of coffee filled the quiet coffee shop like a thick cloud. It settled into every nook and cranny of the homey coffee shop that nudge itself between two large office building. It looked out of place in the shadow of the two glass giants. It was obviously older and was built with aging red bricks that stuck out like a sore thumb on the street filled with glass and metals. Inside, gentle music played just loud enough to send your brain into a trance that would keep you sitting in the old wooden chairs for much longer than you originally planned. The gentle hum of the heater fighting hard to combat the harsh northern cold was like an accompaniment to the chatter of the costumers inside. The coffee shop was decorated with pictures of smiling people and old wooden furniture that looked like it belongs to a neighborhood of grandparents. Mr. Gerold, my boss, always repeated how he wanted to bring his home to work and have all the costumers who walked in feel like they were visiting their parents. Working here makes me feel like I'm helping my grandpa cook breakfast instead of serving random strangers who never seem to have enough time.

    I missed that feeling when I left home. The feeling of being around family all the time, cooking with my grandparents, sitting with my mama, but after my diagnosis, things changed so quickly. They wouldn't let me move, wouldn't let me breathe. In the small town I grew up in, my ending was the only news that was talked about. It drove me insane. The constant prayers and pitiful whispers. I had no choice but to leave. I ran into the arms of strangers who were too engrossed in their own lives to worry about mines.

I stand in front of the large window in the front of the small shop and watch as the evening traffic trudges by. The cold air seems to phase through the window sending a small chill through my body. The sun was setting making the large glass towers send rays of golden light into the usually dim coffee shop. It was my favorite time of my shift. The foot traffic always slowed down to almost nothing since most people would prefer to go home after a long day of work instead of staying for a cup of hot coffee. I always enjoyed the peace. It gave me time to breathe, to exist. Staring at the crawling traffic and shifting sky made me feel small and my problems even smaller.

    "Aniyah."

    "Yes sir?" I tear my eyes away from the window and focus on my old boss standing in front of the counter. He's gently wrinkled face is pulled into a soft smile. His grey hair is meticulously combed into a sleek side part, a hairstyle that I can tell he's been doing for a while. I've never seen him without that signature smile and caring look. He reminded me so much of home.

    "It's about that time isn't it." He says gazing at the old clock that hangs on the wall. "I need to go and check on my wife. Do you need anything?"

    "No sir."

    I look at the old ticking clock. 6:55. He always leaves at the same time to check on his wife between her nurses' shifts. Like him, she's deep into her life and time has made her frail. I've only seen her once when I first started working here a few months back. She was short and pale with long grey hair that seemed to be curled by God himself. She was a feisty who walked with a bright purple cane and spent most of her short visit scolding Mr. Gerald. Of course, he looked at her as if every word she spoke were confessions of love.

    In a way, I supposed they were.

    "Alright then," he puts the shop keys into my hand. "Remember to keep the front door locked whenever you're here alone. If someone doesn't look pleasant you can refuse their service, I won't mind. You're a pretty young girl far from home and this world is a cruel place."

    "Mr. Gerald you say this every night, I was raised tough and taught smart. I can handle this." I laugh gently.

    "A big city and a southern town is night and day Aniyah." He places a hand on my shoulder. "You've only been here a few months and every new costumer that walks in here can tell you're not from here. You're too friendly, you move like you're taking a casual stroll through a park, and that southern accent hides from no one."