While you continued with your usual pencil and notebook work, I mentally scolded myself for being downright rude.
But I have always been like this, right?
It was when I started returning Micky’s smile that I felt I should be doing the same to others. But other than Micky, it was only you who smiled at me.
Maybe next time, I told myself. I saw you for four consecutive days. The same notebook and pencil. Same drink. Same smile. You threw some at me, I returned none. Maybe next time, I told myself again.
I told myself the same thing for the next few days, weeks, and months.
It has been more than a year now. Customers have increased by slight a half—but the number of tables unoccupied still overwhelmed the number of customers that came in. I didn’t care, though. I didn’t want the shop to be too crowded. It used to be just you, me, and the barista named Micky. Now it’s you, me, the barista named Micky, the waitress named Vicky, and a bunch of other customers—some frequented the shop and some didn’t. The latter must have realized how boring the place was. But it was my haven—I’d add an ‘e’ with you in it.
YOU ARE READING
The Fifth Date
RomanceHer Solitude. His Company. Her Silence. His Words. Her Americano. His Caramel Macchiato. Their Date. Their Fifth Date. -TheGreatDutchess #goodluckgeorgia
