Cold Coffee

This is a (very) short story I wrote at the end of spring semester. It was an attempt to write something 'tender,' as I tend to write in an opposing manner.
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Cold Coffee

Ha, here I am again. Same time as always, I wonder if she’ll remember me this time.
“What can I get ya?”
“Coffee.”“That it?”
“And toast.” I’ve ordered the same thing since October—she still doesn’t remember me.
“No eggs or nothin’ darlin’?”
“Nah, I eat light in the afternoon.” Flash smile and wink. Yeah, real smooth Casanova.
“Comin’ up Shug.”
“Shug.’ ‘Darlin’.” Shit like that keeps you employed.
“Coffee and toast.”
“Yeah. Thanks. Not too busy today.” That’s right; hook her before she’s gone out of your sad, little life.
“Slow Friday I guess, Hun.”
“Have any big plans for the weekend?”
“Heh.” I love that smile. “What’s next? Gonna comment on the weather?”
Shit. Okay. Cool out. And stop grinning you fool. So what if the Café Angel is on to you.
“Well now that you mention it, it is awfully nice out.” Okay, my face is starting to hurt. Only she can make me grin this big.
And there it is a sleight giggle and the smile that cures cancer. “Alright hotshot I gatta get back to work.” Wait. She’s leaning in. “And try not to stare too hard as I walk away.” That smile. Wars are fought over things so beautiful. Oh God now I’m blushing. I can feel it—the red hot burn of shame.

She wears that uniform like a gown and that apron like an elegant accessory. Her hair in a small bun, like a princess—Princess of Dirty Dishes. Black ballet shoes with the legs to match, gracefully weaving in and out of tables, balancing trays of food—the minimum wedge dancer. I guess it comes with being on your feet all day. What I wouldn’t give to be the one to sweep her off hers.
“Everything alright?”
“Yeah.” Sip coffee and smile.
“The coffee is shit here and you’re eating white toast. What is there to smile about?”
“The company.” Okay, a bit much. Lock that shit up fool; don’t lay it on too thick. Wait a minute, is she blushing?
“How ‘bout a refill?” She has the cutest giggle.
“Suits me just fine.”
With a look back she is off again. Making the rounds, picking up dishes, cleaning tables, working the register, all the time followed by the angelic glow of her hair.

“You want your check hotshot?”
Shit, I’ve been here along time. “Yeah, why not?”
“You tell me.”