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There’s a look they give you that lets you know how welcome you are – as welcome as a rat in their kitchen, or a stain on their favorite shirt. You go in, walk up to the counter, stand behind the line if there is one. If not, your luck is pretty raw already. You stare up at the menu. Hmm, shall I have the venti latte with extra whipped cream or the double-shot mocha with sprinkles, you seem to say.
All of this is façade, of course. The young girl at the counter might believe you, but the manager is back there, and he knows. He’s thinking the new girl who’s barely old enough to drive may buy what you’re selling, but he knows what you are, and he knows you’re not buying anything.
He’ll know you’re there just to warm up for a few minutes, shake the snow off your out of fashion, hole-ridden tennis shoes, or maybe just go use his bathroom and make more work for him, Mr. Manager, because that’s what people like you do.
So you’ll shake your head, check the time on that watch that’s not on your wrist. You pawned it who knows how long ago. You’ll stick your hands back in your pockets and walk out into the cold, which never stares and never accuses.
About Connor Ludovissy
Connor Ludovissy is an author and student from Tennessee. He enjoys fiction, hiking, and coffee. His stories have been featured by Quail Belle Magazine and Litfestmagazine.com, despite their better judgments. In his free time, Connor is working on becoming a doctor.
Hi I’m Emily! Just wanted to say I love your work!
Well-written. And a sad, but true, slice of life. Someone who’s just there to absorb as much warmth as he can before he inevitably has to go back into the cold.