What follows is the remainder of my short story’s opening section, picking up where this excerpt leaves off.
A series of exuberant greetings followed by bursts of cheerful laughter became increasingly audible as he wound through the cafe. Lindy was that barista who never seemed to have an off day.
“Good morning,” she said again and again without losing any warmth. “What would you like today?”
He turned the volume up. Shuffling forward, he watched the feet in front of him. Just two more now: a placid couple with matching hipster glasses. They took their time studying the menu and when they finally ordered they gave Lindy a clandestine nod as they handed her a small notecard containing dense but inscrutable details. She read the card with a smile but her cheeks flushed red. She hurried away to collect ingredients from the back.
“Good morning,” Lindy said once more, sliding back in front of the register. “What would you—“
“Just a small black coffee.” He removed one of his earbuds without looking up.
Lindy punched the register keys with her two pointer fingers. Sweat was starting to bead along her hairline. The hipsters had put her to work.
He waited with his credit card in hand while she rang him up.
“We’ll have it right out.” She smiled. “Good to see you again.”
But both earbuds were already back in. He shuffled along to the far end of the bar. A scalding beverage appeared moments later, plopped in front of him by a second barista.
Steaming coffee in tow, he retreated to the countertop along the front window overlooking Main. The only available seat had him sandwiched between strangers, but he didn’t mind. He liked the anonymity of a bustling cafe almost as much as the busy city streets outside.
He sipped his coffee and stared at his phone. What began as mindlessly flicking through photos of friends abruptly ended when he froze wide-eyed on an image of two boys, shoulder to shoulder, with the mountains behind them and their whole lives in front. He slammed his phone facedown.
By the time he slipped back onto the sidewalk the cafe line was spilling out the door. Bells without ceasing.
TO BE CONTINUED . . .