The Twists As The Story Turns

One Cuppa Coffee

I pushed open the glass door of the little coffee shop and a bell tinkered. The familiar smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the room and seized my brain with its aroma. It automatically forced open my tired eyes though my brain still felt dull and utterly exhausted from the night shift. It had been a hectic night with two of my patients coding just before the end of the shift.

Coffee had turned from a luxury to a basic necessity now. Back in the college days, it was coffee once a day but now I am literally a caffeine addict.

I took off the head cap and stuffed it in the pocket of my scrubs, running a hand through my tousled hair. The strands were tangled and after a minute, I gave up trying to look presentable.

Who would see me at this hour?

"One cup of coffee, less sugar," a voice at the counter in front of me made me look up.

A man ahead of me had headphones on and was lightly tapping his fingers on the counter, probably to the beat of his music. The barista flashed a genial smile as she motioned for him to occupy a table. The man gave a lazy grin at the barista and turned around.

For a brief second our eyes met and for the briefest of the moments, my heart skipped a beat as a jumble of memories crashed into my already messed up brain. The moment soon passed as I felt a familiar smile creeping on my lips.

He was looking at me too, his eyes noticing me in a warm, friendly gaze, which made me feel happy—the kind of happy when I get to spend a lazy day lying in the afternoon sun.

"You," I breathed

"Finally we meet," his grin seemed like a permanent ornament on his face now. It was one of those everlasting things, like the moon in the sky and the moonlight of that smile was tugging on the tides of my heart.

"But you, here, how?" I spoke too fast.

"Whoa! Slow down, lady. Let's speak over a cup of coffee, shall we?" he gestured to a table. I nodded, still blinking at the suddenness of the situation. And almost instinctively I looked down at my white rubber shoes and green scrubs. My reflection on the counter glass looked hideous.

Yeah, who would see me at this hour?

The barista gave me a sympathetic look and shook her head.

"One cup of coffee..." I began.

"With extra sugar and cream," he piped up from behind me.

"Less sugar, no milk. Make it extra strong," I waved my hands at the barista who looked at him, then at me, back at him again, her eyes widening in confusion. I guess my glare was enough as she scuttled off quickly.

I turned my head and narrowed my eyes at him.

"What? You don't like extra sugar anymore?" he made an innocent face. I could see him struggling to contain a smile at my anger. And I laughed out loud.