The Matchmaker conjures a sign...

Good morning Friday. It’s funny how the end of one thing can also be the beginning of something else.

The Matchmaker is in the coffee shop and standing at the bar, taking in the ambience. I’m standing behind her, waiting for my green infusion.

She looks around, her gaze pausing on two small individuals who are sitting alone at either ends of the shop.

Lost in their own little worlds, with nothing to think about except the empty chairs on the opposite sides of their tables.

Nothing to do but count the thousands of electronic friends they have and wonder why they feel so alone in the crowd.

Nobody to touch.

Nobody to smile at and see them smile back. Nobody to share more than just a conversation with.

Nothing deeper. Nothing more profound.

The Matchmaker sees all this and turns to Little Italy who hands her a medium cappuccino dusted with something dark and aromatic.

There’s a small white card perched on the saucer next to the silver spoon. The card has a number, beautifully hand written in red ink, on it. Nothing else. I see it briefly. 155.

The Matchmaker nods at Little Italy and sits at a table equidistant from the two loners.

As she walks to her seat I can feel a strange attraction, like the pull of a magnet, following her as she goes. But only for a second.

I turn to Little Italy who slowly winks at me and smiles, then nods in the direction of my usual chair.

There, on the table, sits a two-cup teapot waiting for my attention. When I turn back to thank her she had moved away.

Someone else’s turn.

Someone else’s time.

I walk to my spot and the two small individuals stand up, fuss with their things, and make for the door.

The Matchmaker conjures a sign in the air with her right index finger. I see that, too.

Ten feet from the door they collide. Carried items spill onto the floor.

She falls.

He catches her.

They look into each other’s eyes.

Time freezes.

Little Italy looks at the box on the wall.

The box knows immediately what’s required. It reaches down. Picks up number 155 and drops it onto the turntable.

The curtains open. A light shines on the stage. Roberta Flack stands at the mike. Sings. The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face.

Time starts up again.

The two crash test dummies are still looking into each other’s eyes.

Frozen.

Then magic happens.

For every door that closes…another one opens.

Be cool…

**********************************************

The above is an extract from my book Love & Coffee (available from all good Amazons).

It's about the lives and loves of the customers in a city centre coffee shop.

And it's about the woman who takes care of them.

You'll find Love & Coffee (along with all my other books, Ad Lib, Ad Hoc, Ad Infinitum, and Heaven Help Us) waiting for you to fall in love with, on Amazon. Any time of the day or night. Right here...

Love & Coffee: https://amzn.to/28IWaHq

Ad Lib: https://amzn.to/2kd4LKf.

Ad Hoc: https://amzn.to/2Nx8GL8

Ad Infinitum: https://amzn.to/3pof7Uq

Heaven Help Us: https://amzn.to/2nkQ1Jk

Grab a coffee, grab a chair, and grab a sneaky peek.

Then grab a copy...