“Black.”
“How can you do that?” She asked.
He put his money on the counter and walked over to her, discreetly pulling the wedding ring off his finger.
“Do what?” he asked.
“Black, how can you drink it like that?” repeated the Woman.
The kid waved a dollar at the man. “Your change.”
“Keep it.” Said the Man.
He folded his wallet and slipped it back into his pocket along with his ring. “It’s bitter, I like that.” Said the man.
“I need cream. And lots of sugar, but they don’t have sugar, just syrup.” explained the Woman, shifting her purse higher onto her shoulder.
“What is the difference?” He asked.
“I’m not sure.” She smiled, laughing a little bit.
“Medium iced vanilla latte with extra soy.” Called out the Girl from behind the coffee bar.
The Woman picked up her coffee; she held it up, inspecting it through the clear plastic cup. “Little more soy please?”
“Sure thing.” Said the girl, wiping her hands on her apron before grabbing the drink back.
“I thought you said cream?” chuckled the Man.
“Cream, soy, it’s all the same.” Shrugged the Woman.
“Not really.” He said.
“Here you go! Is that good?” asked the girl, holding the drink up for another inspection.
The latte had lost is caramel color, and was now more white than brown. “Perfect.” smiled the Woman. She tore away the wrapper of her straw and jabbed it through the lid. She took a long sip.
“Is that even coffee anymore?” He asked.
“Of course it is, this just isn’t as bitter. I feel like only sad or old people like bitter things.”
“That would explain why this place started in Seattle.” He said, thinking himself clever.
She laughed. Scrunching her face up, she realized what she had implied. “I didn’t mean that you look old.”
“It’s ok. I have been a little down lately.” He admitted.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Sir.” The girl called out
The sad Man grabbed his coffee. He had no reason to inspect it, but he knew it was still too hot to sip.
“Why not just get a soy milk with vanilla syrup, skip the coffee?” He asked her before blowing with a futile effort through the tiny hole in the lid of his drink.
“Then what would be the point in coming in here?”
“That is a very good question.” He laughed.
It was now the Woman’s turn to be offended, but she wasn’t. Instead she took a sip of her drink and glanced at her shoes.
“I guess I just like routine.”
“Would you like to get a coffee some time?” He asked abruptly.
“Isn’t that what we are doing right now?” She asked.
“I guess it is.”
The Man sipped his coffee, forgetting in that awkward moment that it was still too hot. He hoped the Woman hadn’t noticed him clenching his fist as the liquid burned his tongue.
“Actually, I’d better get going. I’m already late to work. I don’t know why I stopped for coffee anyway; and now I am talking to you.” She dug for her keys.
“For soymilk you mean?”
She looked into the his eyes, “I’m sorry you are sad.” She said with utter sincerity. “You seem nice.”
He lingered on his last sip, his sense of taste now dulled. His moment to make a graceful exit had come and gone, but he didn’t like the thought of never seeing her again.
“I had a dream about this, by the way. But you were blonde, and you eyes were green. And you had on a scarf that reached the ground.”
“That doesn’t sound like me at all.”
“Well, dreams are like that. Nobody is ever the way you expect them to be.”
