Crepacuore Cafe

Rosso

Rosso is Italian for Red.

JACKIE

The whirs of the coffee machine are almost loud enough to drown out the sound of rain tapping on the window. There is a clap of thunder, an invisible explosion in the sky- it has both me and the old man who is sitting in booth three, clutching our hearts. I shake off the sudden terror that has just flooded my body, I've never heard thunder like that before, and carry the regular flat white down the aisle of bright red booths. The coffee machine I was at a moment ago is a matching red, coincidentally the doc martins I am wearing are also the very same red. This colour red convinces you it's the only colour that matters, makes you believe it's the only colour that exists.

"Here you go." I tell the man, who has terribly sad eyes. I place the coffee down in front of him.

"Thank you, dear." He throws a small smile my way. "Why don't you make yourself one and come join me?" The idea is appealing, however, I bite my lip tossing through whether it was such a good plan. I got this job half an hour ago and quite frankly did not fancy being fired the very same day. The manager wasn't even here, she left about five minutes after she hired me. The rules didn't seem strict, surely one coffee couldn't hurt.

"I won't be a moment." I hurry off, hastily making myself a latte. I untie the apron before sliding into booth three, opposite the man.

"I'm Levi." He holds a hand across the table.

"Jackie." I shake his hand.

"How are you today?" I couldn't look away from his eyes, it felt like I was drowning in the bluest part of the sea. An awfully rough sea. An awfully sad sea.

"Its one of those days." I am nodding like I understand, even though I do not. "What about yourself?"

"Fine thanks." He nods like he understands, I wonder if he actually does.

"Tell me your story, Jackie." The question startles me but I recover quickly and begin to answer.

"I'm seventeen, I moved here from Melbourne. I had to leave my best friend and my whole life behind. I do not know anyone and I got this job about forty-five minutes ago."

"No."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Tell me your story." He puts an emphasis on story.

"I do not understand, sir." I'm shaking my head at him. "Did I just not?"

"That was not your story, Jackie."

"That is all I have." Panic is starting to bubble inside of me, what more did Levi want? That really is all I have. He takes a sip of his coffee, making me wait for a response. He has wrinkles that shape his eyes- making them not only sad, but tired. Sad, tired eyes.

"This is my story.