I come here on the third Wednesday of every third month, but never at the same time. The baristas never recognize me. I don’t come enough or tip enough for them to remember me, and I’ve never given the same name twice, have always ordered a different drink, and never spend more than five minutes inside. It never takes longer than that to pick what I want, so there isn’t any need to linger. Instead I sit in my car and sip my drink while I wait for the one I selected to come out. Then I follow her home.
Written for Friday Fictioneers.
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