A Quiet Kerfuffle
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Keith’s hand-slam silenced the alarm. He rubbed his eyes and inaudibly yawned, then he jumped out of bed. He quickly rifled through a pile of clothes on the floor, looking for anything to wear. He managed to mostly dress as he exited his apartment adorned in an inside-out shirt, and almost fastened pants.
Chime
Keith’s heart melted at the sound, “black coffee please, large”, Keith said with a crescent moon grin. The barista was fast and in moments there was a lid on Keith’s cup, Keith tapped his card on the reader and graciously accepted his prize.
Cup in hand, Keith took a quick sip, then ripped his head away as the coffee seared his lips, “shit!” he yelled through a loud laugh, but his guffaw turned into a growl. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed, and he stomped his way forward.
“Hey, you’re in my seat!”
Claire looked up, startled, “oh I’m so sorry”, she eyed Keith curiously as she stood.
Keith could feel the regret coating his throat, like it’d been steeped in a glass of turned milk, “oh, no, problem, it's just… this is my spot.”
Claire kneeled and carefully looked over the table and the chair, “hmm, that’s interesting?”
“What’s interesting?” Keith asked with genuine curiosity.
“I’m not seeing your name written anywhere”
Keith dropped his eyes, “ha ha, I just meant…” he paused, “wait, I know you.”
Claire raised her hand, “Please stop.”
Synchrony struck; they both looked down at a book on the table, Claire wasn’t fast enough in putting it away, shit. She grabbed the book and roughly shoved it into her bag.
“Do me a favor, and I won’t cause a scene, deal?”, Keith said as he pressed his palms together. He stared at Claire and waited, his look, both reverent and opportunistic.
“So, extortion it is”, Claire said with an unexpected coldness. She sat and gestured for Keith to do the same. “What do you want?”
Keith handed her a laptop, “start at the top.”
Claire looked at her watch, “fine, can you at least order me a pour over?”
Keith nodded excitedly and leapt up to place Claire’s order. She watched him weave through the other patrons as she hastily typed a comment on the title page of his manuscript. Then, on her way out of a side exit, she reached into her bag and slowly removed the earlier discarded publication and slyly placed it back on the table.
Keith’s foot repeatedly rapped against the counter as he watched the coffee infused water drip into the carafe. Finally! He rubbed his hands together, in anticipation. Cup in hand, expectantly he turned, but Claire was gone.
With large quick strides, he moved to his laptop, “really?” he whispered angrily…
Guy, I don’t have time for this, I’ve gifted you an advanced copy of my next book. Please read it. Hopefully, you’ll find something you can use. By the way, there are nicer ways to ask for help.
-Claire