I woke up early Saturday and went for a run to shake off lingering work stress. The cool air hit my face as I ran through the park. An hour later, I showered, swapped my usual suit for comfy clothes, and headed out. On the way to Hazel’s, I stopped at O’Riley’s for coffee. Thomas was already at the counter.
“Hey, man, I’ll take a black coffee with an extra shot and...” I hesitated, realizing I didn’t know how Hazel took hers. “Do you know what Hazel usually drinks?”
Thomas gave me a look of fatherly suspicion.
“I’m helping her move today, and tomorrow we’re off on the trip,” I added. “She said you organized her vacation time. Thanks for that.” I pulled out my credit card.
“I’m not doing this for you, but she needs the time off. And listen, I’m not trying to be the overprotective big brother here, but don’t mess with her. Seriously. She’s a great girl, and we all care about her. Sure, you might win me in a fight, but I could ruin your coffee runs here...” he leaned in and whispered, “forever.” I stared at him, momentarily speechless. “Foam or spit—you’ll never know.”
Ruin my coffee? The audacity.
“I get it. Loud and clear. My intentions are pure; we’re just friends.” I raised my hand in defense, doing my best to stay serious.
Thomas squinted at me before nodding and taking my card. “Good. Glad we cleared that up.”
After a moment, he placed two cups on the counter. “One black coffee. And a flat white. For Hazel.”
Hmm, strong but creamy.
Just like Hazel.
When I arrived at her apartment, she greeted me with her signature bright smile and a twinkle in her eyes.
“Come on in,” she said, disappearing back inside.
“Morning,” I replied, stepping in slowly. The apartment was full of boxes, yet despite being nearly empty, it still felt cozy. Sunlight danced on the cream-colored walls, lighting up the space. It was a shame she was leaving. It suited her.
“I brought coffee,” I said, handing her a cup. Hazel laughed.
“Thanks. I made you some, too,” she yawned, pointing to the kitchen table.
“Is there such a thing as too much coffee?” I joked, setting my cup down and shrugging off my leather jacket.
“Not today,” she said with another yawn. “Sorry, I tried to finish packing, but I passed out around 3 AM on a pile of dresses.”
I glanced around to assess what was left.
“That’s fine. I called a buddy with a van. He’ll be here later, so we’ve got time.”
“Great, thank you so much. All that’s left are my books and plants,” she gestured to the packed-up kitchen.
“Do you mind if I order something to eat? You know, since we have some time.”
Technically, that wasn’t a lie. Usually, I didn’t eat much in the mornings, but it seemed like she could use some food. She looked a bit pale. It was probably due to lack of sleep.
“Sure, if you want,” Hazel replied, folding boxes. She wore a plain white T-shirt and gray sweatpants that hung loosely but still shaped her figure nicely.
For the next hour, we packed her books while I filled her in about our company. Surprisingly, Hazel gave some insightful advice on publishing—far more than I expected. Sales isn’t for everyone, but she clearly had the brains for it.
“How do you know so much about books?” I asked, closing the last box. “Just from reading?”
“I’m an English major,” she said casually.
“That explains a lot. If you don’t mind me asking, why work as a barista if you have an English degree?”
She paused briefly before responding. “I needed some time off after graduating. I might use my degree eventually, but for now, I just wanted a normal job without the pressure of advancing in a career.”
I nodded, sensing that there was more to the story, but decided not to press. I thought about how different we were. I couldn’t finish university fast enough—I was determined to go into sales, to be top of my class, to land the best job I could find. And I believed I had succeeded.
