CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Nora
A few days had passed since I’d gone back to work.
I was starting to think that life could actually go back to being somewhat normal.
It didn’t happen overnight. The first morning I woke up for work, I was expecting to feel that familiar knot in my stomach, and it was still there. The next morning, it was a bit better.
By the time I put on my apron after my lunch break at the café, I realized I’d gone almost two hours without thinking about everything that had happened.
It was enough to remind me that getting better didn’t always happen in big moments.
Sometimes it happened quietly, while you were just living your life.
The café was always different from the bar.
People came in with their laptops, newspapers, or books they never seemed to finish.
Some people stayed for twenty minutes before rushing back to work, while others stayed for half the morning, slowly drinking one cup of coffee like they had all the time in the world.
It was calmer, slower, and more predictable.
After everything, I found myself appreciating that more than I ever had before.
I’d just finished tying my apron when Sofia looked up from the coffee machine and smiled.
“I’m so glad you’re back. I was starting to think you found another café on Mars. Customers kept asking where you were, and after a while I was running out of excuses.”
I laughed as I finished adjusting my apron. “You sound like everybody I know. They gave me the same talk when I went back to the bar, and I’m starting to think you all practiced it together. I was only away for a few weeks, but everyone is acting like I was gone for a year.”
Sofia crossed her arms and shook her head.
“A few weeks feels like a year when you’re doing someone else’s work.
Do you know how many times I wanted to give a tray to someone else and say, ‘Go deal with that table; they changed their order again?’ You left me with some tough customers, Nora, and I’m still not happy with you. ”
“I knew there had to be a reason you were happy to see me.”
“There. I’m not sorry. Now stop standing there and help me. These people need their coffee.”
We got a lot of orders that day. People thanked us when they left and every familiar face made the café feel like home.
Mrs. Henderson sat in her seat by the window with the same book she’d been reading for months.
Michael, the university student who was always on his laptop, ordered his latte and went to the corner like he owned the table.
Sofia talked to me while I was carrying two coffees. “I don’t know how you still remember what everyone orders. Mrs. Henderson didn’t even have to ask before you made her coffee, and Michael looked offended when I asked if he wanted his usual. I think you’ve spoiled these people.”
I smiled as I put the cups on the table.
“I remember the little things. Mrs. Henderson likes her coffee with sugar even though she says she’s cutting back.
Michael loves his lattes and Mr. Collins always says he doesn’t want banana bread five minutes before he orders some.
After you serve the same people for a long time, you stop remembering the orders and start remembering the people. ”
Sofia smiled. “I missed working with you because you notice things I don’t. The café was different without you. I didn’t realize how much until today.”
Her words stuck with me as I looked around the room.
Life was good. It felt normal and nice. Maybe that was why I didn’t pay much attention when another customer came in and sat by the window.
He looked like anyone else who came in for coffee and a quiet morning.
At least, that’s what I thought at the time.
I picked up a menu and walked over to his table with the same smile I gave every customer. “Good morning. Welcome to our café. Do you need a minute to look through the menu, or have you already decided what you’d like to order?”
He looked up from the window and smiled politely at me. “I think I already know what I want. I’ll have a coffee and one of those blueberry muffins by the counter. They’ve been distracting me since I walked into the café, and I’ve decided it would be rude to keep ignoring them..”
I smiled at him. “Your order will only take a minute, so please make yourself comfortable.”
He nodded at me. “Take your time. I’m not in a hurry. Places like this café are becoming harder to find. I’ve learned that a good cup of coffee isn’t something to rush.”
There was something about him. Not the kind of calm that made people uncomfortable.
The kind that made him seem patient. He didn’t check his phone every second like most customers did, and he wasn’t tapping his fingers on the table as he waited for his order.
He simply sat there, watching people walk past the window outside the café.
I brought his order over a minute later. “Here you are. One black coffee and one blueberry muffin. Please be careful with the plate because it’s still a little warm. If you need anything else, just let me know.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. It already smells better than the coffee I usually make for myself, so I think I made the right decision to come into this café this morning.”
I left him to enjoy his breakfast and went back to work. Another customer wanted the bill, a couple near the door asked for another pot of tea, and Mrs. Henderson managed to finish another three pages of the novel she’d been reading since winter.
Twenty minutes passed before I found myself walking past his table again with a coffee pot in my hand. “I’m topping up everyone’s coffee. Would you like a refill, or have you had enough already?”
He held his cup out slightly. “I would love another one, thank you. I have nowhere I need to be for another hour, so I might well enjoy the coffee while it’s still hot.”
As I poured the coffee, he looked around the café before his eyes settled on me again.
“You seem to know every customer who walks through that door. I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes and every customer who’s come into the café smiled at you like they were your friend. I suppose that only happens when someone has been working somewhere for quite a while.”
I smiled as I put the coffee pot back on my tray. “You recognize customers after a while. Most of our customers come into the café often enough that remembering them becomes part of the job. After a year you stop asking what they want from the menu because you already know before they sit down.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “I imagine that also means customers notice when you disappear for a few days. It must be nice working somewhere customers actually miss you.”
“It is. I never realized how many customers paid attention until I came back to work after a break. Every customer has found a way to remind me that I was gone, and apparently I now owe half the city an apology for disappearing for a few weeks.”
A quiet laugh escaped him. “I think that says more about you than it does about the customers. It’s not every day you find someone who remembers names, favorite drinks, and still manages to smile at strangers before nine in the morning.”
He stirred his coffee absentmindedly before speaking again. “Have you worked at this café for a long time? Is this one of those jobs people take while they’re trying to figure out what they really want to do? You seem a little comfortable for it to be temporary.”
“I’ve been working at the café for a year now, and I honestly enjoy it more than most people expect. After a while the regular customers start feeling less like customers and more like neighbors.”
The conversation still felt ordinary. If anything, he was easier to talk to than some of the other customers who came into the café.
I wished him a good morning and turned to leave.
As I reached the next table, I realized he hadn’t looked back down at his coffee.
He was still watching me. When our eyes met again, he smiled politely before taking another sip of his coffee.
It was such a small thing that I immediately told myself I was reading too much into it. Still, I caught myself glancing back at him twice before I disappeared into the kitchen to collect another order.
The rest of the morning went by uneventfully.
The man sat where he was, slowly finishing his cup of coffee while looking out the window every now and then.
I noticed he was watching people walking down the street instead of looking at his phone like most people did.
It was a bit unusual, but not enough to think much about it.
Some people just liked to sit and think.
By the time I walked by his table again, his cup was empty.
“Can I get you anything? Maybe another coffee or something to eat? Or are you ready for the bill?”
He pushed the empty cup away. “I think I’ve taken up your table long enough. The coffee was really good, the muffin was great, and the company was nice, so I would say the morning was well spent.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’ll bring your bill over in a minute.”
When I came back with the bill, he took his card out of his wallet and handed it to me.
“You know,” he said as I picked it up, “you have a face that makes people feel at ease. I think that’s part of why this place has many regular customers. People remember how someone makes them feel more than they remember the coffee.”
I smiled politely. “I think the coffee is better than I am.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
I let out a quiet laugh, the same one I always gave customers when I didn’t know how to respond to a compliment.
“Thank you for taking care of me this morning. It was nice meeting you.”
“It was nice meeting you, too. I hope you have a great day.”
“I’m sure I will.” He nodded politely before walking to the door.
I watched him leave. There was something about him that stuck in my mind, even though I couldn’t say why.
He was polite, he hadn’t made a scene, and he wasn’t a difficult customer.
But I had a weird feeling that I’d seen him before.
I stood there for another minute, trying to remember where I’d seen his face.
“Earth to Nora,” someone said, waving her hand in front of me. “You’ve been staring at that door for a minute. Should I be upset that you seem more interested in a customer you just met than in me, your friend who you’ve worked with for years? What were you thinking about?”
I smiled awkwardly and looked at the door again. “That man who just left...did he seem a little odd to you?”
Sofia looked a little confused. “The man by the window? Not really. He seemed quiet more than anything. Why? Did he say something?”
I hesitated before answering. “Not exactly. It was just...some of the things he asked felt a little personal. He asked how long I’d worked here, if I liked my job, and if people noticed when I was away.
None of it sounded bad on its own, but by the time we were done talking he knew more about me than I knew about him. ”
Sofia put her elbow on the counter. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing important. The same things I would tell any customer. I didn’t tell him where I live or what time I get off work or anything like that.”
She looked at my face for a moment. “You still look a little upset.”
I shrugged. “I’m probably just overthinking it. After everything that happened, I guess even normal conversations can feel weird.”
Sofia nodded slowly, but I could tell she wasn’t entirely convinced. “Maybe your instincts are trying to tell you something. If he comes back, tell me.”
I smiled, trying to end the conversation. “I promise.” Then I picked up my tray and walked back out onto the café floor, trying to convince myself that I was just letting old fears bother me on a perfectly ordinary morning.
The weird feeling stayed with me longer than I wanted it to.
I tried to distract myself by getting to work, hoping that if I stayed busy the feeling would go away.
A family with two kids came in for lunch.
One of our customers asked me to suggest a pastry for his granddaughter, and Sofia found another reason to complain about customers who change their orders.
The café started to quiet down as the lunch rush came to an end.
Most of our morning customers had already left, leaving only a few people sitting around.
Sofia went into the kitchen to help unpack a delivery.
I picked up a tray and started clearing the empty tables, collecting used cups and wiping down surfaces.
Mrs. Henderson had finally gone home with her book.
Michael had packed up his laptop and left in a hurry to get to class.
The table by the window where the stranger had been sitting was the last one I had to clear.
The stranger’s cup was empty. The plate for his blueberry muffin was empty, too.
Everything looked just like I expected it to. I reached out to gather the dishes.
When I lifted the coffee cup, I saw something under it.
A tissue. At first I didn’t think much of it.
Customers often left tissues behind, so I reached for it without giving it a second thought.
But when I picked it up, I felt that it was different.
It was folded into a square, like someone had wanted to make sure it stayed put until the right person found it.
I stood there for a moment, looking at the tissue in my hand.
Curiosity made me unfold it. As the paper opened up, I saw handwriting in the middle.
He cannot protect you forever.
For a second I didn’t understand what I was reading. I read the sentence again, slower this time, hoping I’d misunderstood it, but the words were still the same.
I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. The conversations around me were still going on, but they sounded distant. Someone laughed near the counter, a spoon clinked against a cup, and the bell above the door rang as someone walked in. All those sounds felt far away.
Without thinking, I looked out the window and onto the street. People were walking past. They weren’t paying attention to the café. A woman pushed a pram, two office workers crossed the road with coffee cups, and a cyclist rode between cars. The stranger was nowhere to be seen.
I looked at the tissue again. My fingers tightened around it. A few hours ago I’d thought my life was finally back to normal. Now, with those five words on the tissue, that feeling of safety was gone.