Coffee Shop Christmas

Nathan

Nathan was in love with love. That was why he had the largest collection of books among his small circle of friends. That was why he was the only guy he knew who preferred rom-coms to any other genre of movie. And that was why, above all else, he loved the snow.

Its sparkle, its purity. The snow was the most romantic thing in the whole world, in Nathan's opinion. Every year, he would wake up on the morning of the first snow and jump out of bed, running to his window to press his nose against his window like he was five again. The snow made him young again, helped his twenty-seven year old bones remember what it felt like to be a child again, to know nothing but joy. So did flannel pajama bottoms. He liked those, too.

Yes, Nathan had plenty of romance in his life - except for someone special to share all the romance with. That had always been what he wanted for Christmas. Secretly, he made a Christmas wish: for someone to share his love with.

At around 11:30 PM on Christmas Eve, he bundled himself up in his puffy white coat that made him look like a marshmallow and flung open his apartment door to greet the snow.

Oh, and how he greeted the snow! It seemed to know that he loved it, and it tickled his nose accordingly. Instead of turning his face away from its gentle touch, he tilted his nose up to the sky for the full effect, letting it brush against his rosy cheeks.

He was almost sad when he arrived at Mr. Thompson's 24-hour coffee shop, leaving the frigid air to play by itself while he went inside and got a latte. As he stepped into the coffee shop, Mr. Thompson scurried back to the counter. Nathan ordered a plain latte and payed in cash. When he received his drink, he gave Mr. Thompson a warm thank you and spun on his heel and began to look for a place to sit. A lady was sitting over by the fake fireplace in a comfy chair. She was almost curled up in the chair, holding her drink with both hands. Her eyes were looking directly at the fireplace, and she looked very sad. Nathan plopped down into the chair across from her. She looked up at him suddenly, her large brown eyes wide with fear. She reminded him of a deer, the way she gazed up at him.

"Hi, I'm Nathan," he said, extending a hand. She looked down at his hand and then back up at him slowly, cautiously. Finally, she wrapped her long, shaky fingers around his sturdy, nimble ones and they shook hands.

"Rose," she said in almost a whisper.

"That's a nice name."

"Thank you. I like the name Nathan. Actually, do you mind if I use your name? I'm an author."

"Sure, on one condition."

A touch of a smile appeared on Rose's face. "What condition would that be?"

"That I get to read whatever story you use my name in."

"It's a deal."

"Let's shake on it."

This time it was Rose who first extended her hand.