Chapter 1
He pushed himself through the doors of the little cafe, and I could see the three other patrons glance nonchalantly in his direction, and then avert their eyes back to whatever device they were holding in their hands.
I always imagined that the hinges of the glass window door forced themselves to open in front of him, as they yielded at the sight of a superior power. Even if Ward Meachum was something people called a prestigious character, his arrogant posture and no-nonsense demeanor prevented anyone from staring or whispering in his presence. And this was New York, so no one probably cared anyway. Despite his slightly daunting composition, I was always pleased to see him. He was polite and liked to talk while waiting for his coffee. Our brief exchange usually consisted of lamenting on how neither of us ever saw the weather outside except through a window, due to our crazy working hours.
I saw him glance, brows furrowing, towards the two customers I was currently serving by the counter. He'd happened to enter at the peak of our "rush hour". He lifted the expensive cuff of his light gray suit with his index finger and glimpsed at his watch. He'd been used to coming in, getting his coffee (black, no sugar) and leaving. It was doubtless the only reason he came here. No need to waste time waiting. Well, today was not his lucky day.
---
Ward drew a deep breath and settled to wait at the end of the line. He'd started coming here because the cafe was always open (well, almost always), and there was hardly ever anyone there. The fact that it was also close to his apartment didn't hurt. The professional part of his brain often wondered how a business this small could possibly be profitable, but the cafe had already stood there for at least two years. Maybe the overhead was really low.
Ward had found this tiny establishment after the reconstruction following the "incident" when the small businesses along the street reopened. However, not all of them could've been opened again. Some had changed owners and new businesses emerged, since without proper insurance, several had had to face a closure. Café Kielo had been one of the new arrivals.
There was nothing fancy about the cafe. Coffee was ok, but the assortment was limited. There was a selection of savory items; sandwiches, croissants and such, and a set of colorful pastry. And ice cream. A surprisingly large selection of different flavors for such a small space. The interior was all white; the tables, chairs, counters, floors and walls. Light green curtains and small tablecloths brought a splash of color to the scene and Ward knew that the owner changed the color of these highlights following different seasons. Red at Christmas, yellow in Easter, red/white/blue at 4th of July, although the light green was the predominant color. Ward found the interior refreshing and the hue of the green reminded him of the first leaves of spring when life was just about to start again with a new cycle. If only he could do the same.
He was already late for a meeting but felt he needed his "humanity fix" this morning. He knew his day was going to be full of corporate meetings, ruthless businessmen and -women heads filled with profit, market value, mergers, acquisitions, and lobbying. In anticipation of all that, he wanted to start his day with a friendly face that had no strings or expectations attached. There was nothing exceptional about the face he secretly considered his one breath of pure humanity. He wouldn't have glanced it twice if it had crossed him in the streets, hell, if he was honest, he wouldn't have glanced it even once. However, as he'd come to notice, the face came with the most genuine and warm smile he'd seen in a long time (not since his mother was still alive), a dimpled smile that radiated warmth through eyes that seemed to look straight inside you, not just at whatever face-suit he'd happened to put on that day.
Ward was anything but naive and didn't think that that specific smile was targeted for him alone. In fact, he saw the opposite to be proven right at that very minute with the other customers. However, he had a weird feeling in his stomach he didn't recognize whenever he was about to talk to the person in question. It wasn't unpleasant per se, it just made him a bit uneasy. Not enough to stop him from coming here though. After all, this was the nearest and most convenient place to get one's coffee from.
---
"And how is it, out there in the real world?" I inquired as I prepared his morning coffee.
He looked down at his hands and smirked. "Maybe we should ask that from the normal people since I didn't seem to notice." His hazel eyes lifted to meet mine, still smirking. I swear if I wouldn't have been aware of the realities of life, sometimes I might have imagined he was flirting with me. Or attempting to. But then I remembered who he was, and who I was, and was zapped back to the world of reason.
I had to chuckle. "I don't think normal applies to New York." I nodded my head imperceptibly towards a patron in table 2, an extremely tall and thin man in a dark red velvet suit, completed with a spotted bow tie. His scalp shone almost brighter than the white tabletops. He was talking quietly to his watch, which might even have been a perfectly normal thing to do these days, with all the cool new gadgets around. I wouldn't know since I barely had enough money for bare necessities.
"You may have a point," Ward Meachum muttered, suddenly serious. But he said it more to himself than to me, as I watched him slide his credit card back to his wallet with long, agile fingers. For a moment I wondered if I'd said something offensive, but then he grabbed the coffee, thanked me with one of his rare, brilliant smiles and left, leaving me to admire his ridiculously straight posture and the world owners attitude that he exuded in his wake. But for a tiny moment there, I thought I'd seen a crack in his perfect demeanor, something that had made him seem somehow more relatable and less like a perfect business shark. I wondered how different his life must be compared to mine. I probably couldn't even begin to imagine.