The Fifth Date

Chapter 1

I stared at the clock expectantly.

Five minutes more.

Tapping my fingers on the table, I gazed at the half-empty coffee shop. Micky, the barista caught my eyes and threw a small smile at me which I so timidly returned.

Four minutes more.

I took a sip of my second Americano. The three teenagers seated on my left were talking about prom dates which somehow irked me. I turned my gaze to the old man I’ve seen yesterday, he sat on the same spot—near the comfort room, drinking his coffee. He reminded me of my grandfather.

Three minutes more.

I dusted my sweater—tiny crumbs of oatmeal cookie I ate 10 minutes ago were stuck up everywhere. I opened my bag—which was seated on my lap ever since I got here 2 hours ago, and brought out my wallet. I still have some to spare for my 3rd Americano—if ever I think about a refill. I threw the clock another glance before flipping another page of my report.

Two minutes more.

I gawked at the glass window across me—overlooking the bus stop on the corner beside the flower shop. My heart started to race as another minute has passed and a bus has just stopped. I took a deep breath and fixed my glasses anxiously.

30 seconds more and I started to chew on my lower lip—preventing myself from staring at the door.

Five.

Four.

I fidgeted with the hem of my sweater.

Three.

I saw Micky throw another comforting smile at me. I forgot to return it when— one, the wind chime by the entrance of the coffee shop jingled making me look up.

And there you were.