“Yeah, I walk. It isn’t far, and I’m careful. Head up, off my phone. You know, all those rules.”
That wasn’t true either – most days, I didn’t even remember walking home. I’d sing a song in my head, get distracted by some birds, dream up different coffee concoctions to try.
“Your family nearby too?”
“No, my parents are dead… What’s with the inquisition?”
“Ever think about moving?”
This didn’t come off as casual, but I tried to tell myself these were the innocent questions of a person who was overly curious and lacking social skills. I didn’t answer him, and he kept mefixed in his gaze like he wouldn’t look away until I answered. I gave him my own examination. What was with this guy?
He smelled like smoke and metal, not cigarettes, but something colder, like rain-soaked leather and the scent of a car garage. I never saw him remove his coat after the first day, when he wore the shirt that revealed his tattooed arms. Lately, he always hid beneath a hooded leather jacket, no matter how toasty I kept the shop, and the only ink that I could see was on the part of his neck that peeked above his collar, and his hands. He never looked down at his phone. His posture was too straight, like he was ready to move at any second. He reminded me of the kind of men cast in cheesy action movies: the overly macho guys who didn’t flinch when things exploded, those with good intentions buried under too much dirt and blood, the ones who never got a happy ending.
“No, I like it here,” I finally responded with a smile. “It’s home to me.” I set my jaw, smiling a little deviously as I leaned across the table. “My turn. Are you from here?”
He regarded me coolly, his voice holding the same chill. “No.”
“Whereareyou from?”
“Lots of places.”
“Where do you live now?”
“Up town.”
I didn’t peg him for a guy with uptown money, but I didn’t want to bring financial situations into the conversation when Ireallyhad no room to talk, so I just said, “You don’t look like an uptown guy.”
“What does an uptown guy look like?”
Fair.
I took a breath in, nervousness melting away. “What do you do for work?”
“Private contractor.”
“Like… a handyman or pest control… something like that?”
There was a flicker of something in his eyes that I almost missed. “Something like that.”
“You always show up right before close,” I stated.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “You don’t like that?”
“I didn’t saythat.”
“You have a cat,” he said suddenly, matter-of-factly.
“Yes… I have a cat. Do you have any pets?”
“No.”
“Family?”
“A sister.”
“Does she live here?”
“No.”
