The Coffee Shop

(Part 2) Beth: Ed. I only really know his name because of the tag on his shirt, which always seems to be crooked, but I don't mind. His smile is shy, but warm and inviting.

I sit in the cafe and I make my music on my laptop almost every single day, and I can feel him staring at me. Part of me is worried, concerned for the reasons behind his constant looking. But on the other hand, I feel comforted, almost protected, like if a strange old man were to walk in and suddenly touch me or talk to me, Ed would be at my side in a heart beat.

I touched his hand once. He was shaky, and I didn't ask why because it wasn't the time or place, and I didn't know him well. But his hand was warm, and mine landed on top of his as he handed me the paper bag. There was a blueberry muffin inside, which was almost a chocolate chip muffin because he was so nervous. It may have been his first day working, which is what I've come to assume after all of this time.

But my hand landed on top of his for just a second, and I didn't say sorry or look at him or anything. I just took my bag and my latte and went to my seat. I worked on some music and tapped my feet and felt some more of the staring, and I smiled lightly at the thought of him looking at me. I didn't look at him, though. I just let him look at me. Ed.