He said on the phone to meet him in the bookshop. Had I known it was one of those trendy coffeehouse places, I might have suggested a quieter location. He’s always late. Always. My curiosity prevents me from getting up and leaving.

A young girl fetches my tea. It’s in one of those ridiculously large mugs with what looks like half a pint of milk in it. I narrow my eyes at her and grumble “I said black.” She visibly wilts and I look back to my book as she scurries away.

I’ve read this book countless times, but it’s the reason I’m here in this wretchedly pleasant place. This work must be completed. I study the tome translating each phrase as diligently as the first time I picked it up. 

A young man brings another cup of tea, this time with no milk. I give him a vague nod as he places it on the table and cheerily apologises.  He wanders off, muttering some sort of insult as I turn my focus to the task at hand.

I’m just grumbling to myself over the quality of the tea as the shop door swings open. In he breezes, bright smile and blonde hair streaming in the sunlight. “Hey!” He calls.