Friday 1 June 2018

This is how I thought it would play out when I was ten.

(And here we are, at long last.)

Last customer, sitting at a booth in the corner for so long, menu held up to block out the world I wondered if he was going to last past the end of my shift. A few attempts to offer coffee or the special (roast turkey on an open-faced sourdough bun, cranberry dressing and mashed on the side) were met with silence. I kept cleaning, loading dishes and redrawing the menu board. I reorganized the spoons and filled vinegar and ketchup and salt and pepper too. I poured myself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter finally, with my back to the booths. Not my problem.

Obviously it's Lochlan.

Not sure how he didn't realize that I would see that his ring matches mine. Or recognize his clothes. Or that I would know his hands, his posture, his presence anywhere, immediately. I always feel him before I see him, but I think he thought he could blend in until the three-o'clock mark.

I think I'm ready now. He folds the menu onto the table and smiles at me.

What'll it be? 

One Bridget. To go, please. 

To go where? 

Anywhere you want to go, Little Lady.