Vanilla Milk

“I’m sad again.”

She dropped her bag on the floor and slunk into the seat across him. He watched as she took out her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes.

“I know, I know, every time I call you, it’s because I want to unload something. But you’re the only one I can really talk about this.”

He suppressed a smile and looked steadily at her while the tears kept pouring down her cheeks. As the handkerchief danced across her face, his eyes glanced down at his cappuccino and the vanilla milk he always got for her when she asked him to meet with her.

“You know that I’m always here to listen to you. I’m glad that you trust me. Now, tell me what’s wrong,” he said gently, tapping her arm.

She looked up once to see his understanding eyes. Taking a deep breath, she began. “Well, it all began last Wednesday, when my grandma told me she cancelled her plans…”

She suddenly stopped and looked up at him, tears still falling from her eyes. “Are you sure it’s okay I talk to you about this? I know I’m usually positive about things, but things have been getting me down lately…”

With a nod, he replied, “Of course. Please, tell me what happened.” She smiled tearfully and continued.

He took a sip of his coffee and sat back, listening patiently and understandingly to the girl who only called him to cry on his shoulder. He smiled softly.

For K.

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First written March 23, 2018.
In The Coffee Shop, #17


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