1.
“What happened? Oh no… that sounds terrible. I’ll come home and I’ll cook for you. I’ll make you feel better.”
The words rolled off the woman’s tongue with irresistible tenderness. Her care was stated with such conviction that even the eavesdroppers understood it as a promise, or perhaps, a prayer. Her modelesque features—sharp cheekbones, perfect posture, and piercing eyes— had just minutes ago caused everyone in the room to rearrange themselves, but now felt eerily irrelevant. She was no longer an ornament. She was a girl— love-giving, hand-holding, life-nurturing.
One by one, her massive textbooks went back into her satchel. She moved urgently, but with intention. Her demeanor gave no hint of panic or worry—no regret about the meager amount of time she had spent studying nor the price of her unfinished avocado toast. The hipster in the corner was wearing a cowboy hat and had spent the last ten minutes inventing reasons to talk to her, but now watched with quiet resignation, unable to leave his seat. As she glided out the doors, his eyes hovered at the spot where she had taken her lover’s phone call.
I’ll make you feel better…
“Lucky bastard,” the cowboy muttered to himself as he pulled the brim over his eyes, afraid they would betray a feeling deeper than lust.
2.
As the metal doors shut behind the woman, two small hands found their way onto the handle and threw it back with clumsy force. If not for the extended squeegees floating inconspicuously in the air, the barista might not have seen the two young boys entering his shop, both of whom were still too short to see above the bar. Before he had the chance to speak, a small but stentorian voice sang:
“Hey!! This is Milo and I’m Jonas. We are giving great deals on window washes today. You have a beautiful shop and I think people would want to come in more if they could see it better from the street. Don’t you agree? Whaddya say? Can we wash your windows?”
The final line was a cue to Milo who, in sync with Jonas, affected jazz hands and a gigantic grin. The massive soap bucket swayed back and forth in Milo’s hand for five, maybe six, seconds as the duo remained frozen, awaiting a response.
The barista hid his amusement behind a smirk and asked, “How much per window?”
“5 dollars,” said Jonas.
Without a word, the barista glanced at the owner. After receiving a knowing look, he turned back to the young entrepreneurs and told them to make it fast.
Fifteen minutes later, Milo and Jonas divvied up their new stack of fivers and sorted them into their respective wallets, legs swaying eagerly from the barstools. On the way out the door, the barista yelled after them:
“Yo, kids!
They turned.
With a wink, he continued, “Little piece of advice. Never count your cash in public.”
They nodded and sprinted out the door.
About the Author:
Bradley Andrews is a hopeful rabble-rouser on a mission to inspire the world. Stay in touch with what he’s doing by subscribing to a weekly digest of his activity through micro.blog. This will send you writing, photos, and other curiosities that you are guaranteed to love.
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