I was letting my imagination run away with me, wasn't I? Just because Woody was out of his mind didn't mean his friends were.
A tiny voice in the back of my head said it didn't mean they weren't either.
Halfway through the next block, he led me into a small cafe. Not just a cafe, I realized. Behind the glass on the counter were a dozen different kinds of donuts. The smell was incredible.
Sweet pastry and bitter coffee. I couldn't think of a better combination.
"Coffee and donuts in one place," I said. "My favorite."
"I know, it's heaven, right?" Leif said. "Wait, you like donuts, right?"
"Do I like…" I stared back at him. "Of course I like donuts. Doesn't everyone? Hold on. You don't cool your donuts by running them under water, do you?"
He laughed. "That would be… I don’t know, whatever the sacrilegious version of donuts is. Donutligious? Sacri-nut? Either way, it's a no-no."
"Hey Leif," the guy behind the counter, greeted him. "Didn't think I'd see you today."
"You got lucky," Leif said. "This is Arthur. He owns the place. Arthur, this is Sable."
"Hey." Arthur looked to be in his mid-twenties with a scraggly goatee and a man bun. "What can I get you?"
"I recommend the mocha donuts," Leif said.
"That sounds good. I'd like one of those." My mouth was starting to water. "And a coffee, please."
"I'll have the same thing," Leif said.
Arthur nodded and, without another word, turned to make our coffees.
"It's good to see you smiling," Leif said as we stood to the side to let someone else place their order. "I get the feeling you don't do it very often."
If he intended to aim right for my heart, he got in a direct shot.
"I used to." I said. "When I was singing and playing music. Before…you know who." He who would not be forgotten if people kept bringing him up the way they were.
Leif looked at me searchingly, his expression serious for once.
"That must have been rough," he said. "It's not every day someone…" He stopped to accept our coffees and a bag for our donuts from Arthur and paid him.
He jerked his head toward the door.
I followed him out.
"You saw everything they did." He handed me my drink and opened the bag for me to take out a donut.
"No," I said quickly. "I was in the shower when it happened." I hoped that would be enough for him to let it go.
"Mmm," he murmured, as if he didn't quite buy it.
"This donut is good," I said, trying to change the subject.
"Of course it is." We stepped over to a bench and sat down to eat. "It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," he said, "but I get the impression there's more to what happened than you're saying."
Of course I didn't want to talk about it. I got the impression he wasn't going to let it go that easy.
"Why would there be?" I asked evasively.
"I can think of a handful of reasons off the top of my head," he said. "They might have been people you know. Ratting out a friend is difficult. Not that I've done it, but I'm guessing."
