Drabbles

Just A Little Bit

     It starts off innocently enough, with her saying, "Just a little bit," whenever you ask if she wants more coffee. But then it turns into a joke amongst you and your coworkers when that becomes her answer for everything every time you approach her booth. This woman, she comes in every afternoon and orders the same thing, no matter what. Rain or shine, sizzling hot or freezing cold, she gets the third item down on the menu with a cup of coffee. It's not unusual, having a regular in a diner, but this one is funny. Sometimes you and your friends switch places and trade tables just so everyone can have a little fun. At first it was stupid stuff- giving her too much sugar, giving her laughably tiny amounts of milk- but you and your friends have taken it to another level. This woman never complains, no matter how foolishly you ruin her meal. You asked her once if you could top off her coffee, and, predictably, she asked for "Just a little bit." You poured her a few drops as a gag, but she didn't request more nor complain about your stunt. Your coworkers laughed for almost ten whole minutes about it. 

     After a few months of these games, you start to seriously wonder why this woman never gets on your case. You're the one that started the harassment, the one that plays with her the most. You should have been warned by now. You should have been chastised by your boss, threatened to be fired. But you never were, are. So you start to linger by the woman's table and watch her while she eats. You learn what she likes best, how long it takes her to finish, what side of the booth she prefers. She's become an obsession of yours, by accident. You hate that you can't effect her mood no matter what stupid thing you do. She barely even looks at you. It infuriates you when you try to speak to her but she only grunts in response or gives one word answers aside from her signature, "Just a little bit." You're going to get her to notice you for ego's sake.

     When you get the chance to force her to acknowledge you you're at the market in your lazy clothes with your hair in a messy ponytail. But you forget about all that and clomp up to her, brave since you can confront her here and not get fired. You step up to her and find that she's a good head taller than you. You never noticed since at your job she's sitting, but the revelation has your courage dwindling. But you've already made your decision and you're not one to back down. So you take a breath and call out for the woman to pay attention to you. She looks above your head for a moment before realizing you're down low. The scene makes your blood boil, and you get hotter when her brow furrows and she asks, "Do I know you?" with genuine confusion. She's clutching a basket of few groceries, staring at you like you're nuts. 

     You say, "You come into my work every day," and jut out your chin defiantly, daring her not to remember. She blinks and says nothing. You huff and cross your arms over your chest, saying, "I work at the diner," and a spark of recognition finally makes her nod. "Ah," she says. She says, "Well, it was nice seeing you," then turns and walks away. You're flabbergasted that she could dismiss you like that, and you catch up to her as she strolls down the next aisle over. "What's wrong with you?" you blurt, causing her to spin to face you. She frowns and says, "Excuse me?" You growl and throw your arms out in exasperation and ask, "How are you always so calm?" She looks around as if she's trying to find a hidden camera, then her eyes lock with yours and the tiniest of smiles crosses her lips. She cocks a hip and says, "You're talking about the way you mess with my lunch, right?" "Yes!" you almost scream. She only shakes her head and says, "See you tomorrow," then is walking away from you again. This time you don't follow.

     When you see her next at the diner almost all of the tables and booths are empty. You use the chance to confront her again, and you sit at her booth, directly across from her. She looks up from her coffee to give you a blank look. "Can I help you?" she asks slowly, as if she thinks you're dim. You purse your lips and almost kick her underneath the table. But you keep your annoyance in check and say, "I want to know what your problem is." She leans back into her seat, the cheap leather creaking beneath her. She taps the table with manicured nails and says, "I don't have a problem. But you do." And you jerk back, offended. "I do not," you snap, making her chuckle. She taps the side of her coffee mug and says, "You're the one who laughs at me with your little friends." You blush in embarrassment but hold her gaze. "Why haven't you reported me yet?" you ask. She grunts then pulls her purse onto her lap and brings out enough money to pay her bill plus a generous tip for you. "Treat someone else the way you treat me," she says as she stands and gathers her things, "and I'm sure you'll get fired like you want."