Caramel (wlw)

chapter 10 - one black coffee

Warmth was all I registered when I came to in the early morning; then the weight that was slung across my chest, and over my dead left arm.

Laura's breathing was deep and steady, her head partly on my shoulder. I didn't want to move; the sight made me soft. She always looked stressed when she was awake, but now she was the image of peace.

I was willing to let my arm lose circulation, but my body shifted involuntarily and Laura stirred. One eye opened, and then shut. She hummed as she snuggled closer.

"Laura. Wake up." She squeezed my side. Shaking her head, she garbled something unintelligible. Probably a 'no'.

"I have to go to work," I added.

"It's—" She groaned, leaning away to glance at her bedside clock, "eight in the morning. Stay a bit."

She took my silence for assent and pressed her face to my neck, making happy noises as she did. Meanwhile, I only started to realize that I wasn't in my room. Again.

Maybe that's not so bad. Laura was still lying on my arm, so I moved it around her. I felt her smile against my skin. Eventually I had to get up and leave, but not without her whining.

"Are you going to stay in today?" I asked just before I walked out of the room.

"Maybe." Then she wrapped herself up and hid under the covers.

After a quick shower, I dressed in a worn shirt and jeans. I liked being able to move, and really, it doesn't matter; the apron is the uniform. I guess, with this outfit, I looked like a lot of other people, which probably explains why this man wrenched at my arm on my otherwise peaceful walk to the shop.

Look, I'm not the type to start a street brawl, but I will if need be. Luckily, the guy only scrutinized my face, let go, and walked away, all without a word. Did that actually happen?

The passers-by had no reaction and circled around us. That's to be expected, but still. I could have been assaulted.

Only when I was at the glass doors of the shop did I realize that that was the guy from yesterday. He didn't have the bloodshot eyes and he might have combed his hair, but his glare was the same. The shop itself was as it is on a typical day. Jonatan's not on this shift, so I spent the morning in relative peace and boredom.

It was early in the afternoon when the man walked through the doors. I have no idea what his name or deal is, but he headed straight toward me. Something about him bothers me; maybe it was the hostile looks and the actual aggressive physical contact earlier this morning. I steeled myself, ready for an altercation, as he neared the counter. I'd throw a punch if he tried anything.

We were locked in a standoff, with nothing but the cash register between us. Just before I barked out a warning, he spoke first.

"One black coffee." What?

Oh. Okay. He wanted coffee, from me, a barista, here at the coffee shop I work at. Makes sense. The transaction continued with as little words as possible; I wasn't in a talkative mood and neither was he. After taking his coffee, he sipped it as he went to a seat.

He spent the rest of the afternoon just sitting there, staring into his coffee cup. Soon enough, he got up to leave. He wasn't very graceful with his walk, to be honest. Maybe that's mean of me, but he had a blank forward stare and he even shoulder-checked Laura, who just came in, on his way to the door.

That jolted him out of his apparent reverie, and they both turned to each other. Both also had this look of surprise on their faces. From what I could tell all the way from my spot at the counter, neither apologized.

Laura's strides were a little hurried as she entered further, and the man kept looking at her even when he was walking out.