Page 19 of I’m Dreaming of a New York Christmas

‘I mean, it’s… don’t worry.’

‘Nah, I need to know the truth so I don’t embarrass myself in front of international strangers in the future. Level with me.’

‘Okay. I think “bio break” is probably the most Corporate-America phrase I’ve ever heard. It’s as if an algorithm came up with it, rather than a person.’

The stranger rubbed an eyebrow with the knuckle of his index finger and smirked, red-faceed. ‘It probably was an algorithm, wasn’t it? Oh, man.’

His own blushes made me feel less self-conscious about my own.

‘Anyway, for what it’s worth my answer would have been yes,’ I said.

‘That’s good to know.’

‘So… would you like me to watch your stuff?’

‘Oh yeah! Yes. Yes please. I’ll be right back. Thanks.’

I chuckled quietly to myself as he wandered to the far end of the coffee shop, disappearing behind the end of the counter, where a Progress Pride flag was draped.

A coffee and an extra almond croissant arrived shortly after.

‘Oh, it was just the coffee I think.’

‘Yeah, I know. But the croissant’s on the house.’

‘Thanks, that’s really generous of you.’

‘You can thank Ethan: he does a lot of work for us for free.’

I frowned. ‘As a barista?’

‘Ha, no. He does all our artwork. Here, look.’

Cory pointed at the menu on the window ledge, which featured a range of balloon-like characters seemingly floating in a haze of caffeine-induced bliss. The illustrations were fun, although they looked strangely familiar.

‘Nice, but he doesn’t ask for money?’

‘Nah, he said we could pay him in coffee. And croissants.’ Cory nodded towards my plate and grinned. ‘But even though he comes here most days before work, he never claims enough of them for the amount of work he does for us.’

The bell of the door opening prompted Cory to head back to the counter. I glanced at my phone: it was coming up to eight forty-five, so I assumed Ethan would be heading off to work soon. I also noted there was still no message from Mum or Anneka.

I took a sip of my bonus coffee – without doubt one of the best coffees I’d ever had. Ethan’s discarded headphones lay on the table, and I could just make out the distant, shrunken sounds of familiar music emanating from them.

I couldn’t resist placing my ear closer to deduce what he was listening to. It was a song called This Hush Is New by an indie band called Days Colliding I used to listen to as a teenager.

‘Sorry, was it disturbing you?’ Ethan asked.

I jumped again, thankfully not so dramatically this time. ‘No, sorry, I thought I recognised it, that’s all. I haven’t thought about that band in at least a decade. You’re a fan?’

‘Yeah, I love all the stuff from back then. I think they’re still going! How about you – what are you listening to?’

‘Me? Oh, just white noise in here. Helps me focus when I write.’

‘Preach. But, as an audio-processing weirdo, can I offer you a tip?’

He speaks my language.

‘Sure.’