Coffee Shop

• 03 •

Ever since I was really small, I had this horrible habit of not listening when I was excited. I'd pick the words that mattered to me, filtering them out from the context clues that were, in fact, very important.

For a moment in my life, I'd thought I'd grown out of it. But when I awoke the next morning and sorted through the clothes that hung in my bare bedroom, I realized one thing...

I didn't know what time to go to the coffee shop.

At first, I laughed about it. I circled my room and racked my brain, trying to remember every word Brian had said to me the day before. Yet, I could only recall the words I'd selected to hear:

Interview. Tomorrow. Can you make it?

I groaned and dropped onto my knees. Great, just great, Kay. I slid my fingers through my hair. I couldn't just call the shop and ask him. Who does that? Jobs wouldn't give you the chance if you couldn't pay attention the first time. That only meant after they hired you, you'd be the same—unable to pay attention. And, I mean, I could pay attention, it was just I was so excited and happy and...

A knock came on my door and my head snapped up. "Hello?" I called out to the visitor.

"Kay?" The kind, sweet voice of Mr. Paul sounded at the other side of my door. "Sorry to come by so early. Hopefully, I'm not imposing."

Imposing? Never! 

I fixed the front of my shirt and readjusted my socks on my feet as I skipped my way over to the front door to open it. With a smile, I looked at Mr. Paul as he held a small plate covered in aluminum foil in his hands. The smell of chocolate and vanilla frosting crept from underneath. My mouth watered.

"Good Morning, Kay," he said.

Mr. Paul was a tall, older man, with greys covering every bit of his head. Glasses sat on the end of his nose, pulling attention away from the stubble on his upper lip and cheeks. While I was too busy looking at the locket that hung around his neck, he pushed the plate slightly in my direction. "I'm going to be out most of today, Tony—you remember him, my nephew—will run the shop while I'm gone. So these—" He pushed the cupcakes once more, and I took them with the biggest smile. "—are here a little earlier than normal. I woke up at five this morning to make them."

"Aw, Mr. Paul—" I lifted the corner of the foil and sighed at the three large cupcakes that smiled back at me. "—you didn't have to."

"Of course, I do," he chuckled and pressed his hands into the pockets of his burgundy jacket. "Mrs. Paul would never let me not do this for our tenants. It's our habit of kindness."

"It really is kindness," I said, the corners of my eyes wrinkling as I smiled big at him. "Will she be home today? I'd love to thank her."

Mr. Paul only smiled at me but didn't answer. He looked behind me, into my apartment, then over at his door to the right. Not once did he drop that smile.

Biting my lip, I tried to think of what to say. Anything to break the silence. As he'd done seconds before, I looked back inside my humble abode, then over at his apartment door. And I gasped. "The envelope!" I said to him. "Did you see my envelope the other day? I knocked and knocked and, you know, doing that is kinda rude so... well, I completely forgot to ask if you'd scooped it up or if it got lost under the doorway—"

"Lost under the doorway?" Mr. Paul chuckled, shaking his head.

"—But I wanted to make sure you got my rent for this month!" Sometimes, I talked fast. Too fast. The look in Mr. Paul's eyes meant I'd done just that. Such a blabbermouth...