I clearly remember first time he came into the coffee shop. As I took his order of black coffee, I noticed his lack of eye contact. The boy hid behind his glasses as he spoke.
He came the next day, ordering the same drink.
Each day he would sit at the same table in the far back corner buried in his book, leaving his coffee to turn cold.
He always returned, but rarely spoke, leaving me curious.
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Cold Coffee
Teen FictionEvery morning most people around the world will begin their day with coffee. Some drink gourmet; others a cheap cup. That is why I love working at an old coffee shop. Although there's not an abundance of customers, it is my favorite place. Every p...
