IN A LATE MORNING
ISABELLA
The morning rush finally died the dramatic, caffeine fuelled death it deserved. Cups stacked, tables wiped. Customers staggered out looking emotionally healed and financially irresponsible. I leaned against the counter, exhaling as if I had just survived a minor natural disaster. Michael vanished to the back to 'inventory,' which was code for lying down dramatically. Wanessa was polishing the same spoon for the fifth time, absolutely not eavesdropping. I haven't even noticed when a previous female lead had taken a job here.
Aiden stayed, not hovering, not looming. Just there. Sitting at the corner table, jacket draped over the chair, scrolling through his phone like a normal human being instead of a narrative landmine. I poured myself water and walked over.
"So." I said, sitting across from him. "Any strong opinions on oat milk versus almond milk? I need to know before I trust you."
He looked up, startled, then smiled.
