The Thin Lady is emotionally blind...

We are a caring species. We care about what the weather's going to do today. We care about how little time we have and how much money we don't have. We care about the place we call home and the stuff we call ours. We care about how we feel and what we do. We even care about whether we care enough.?

And then, sitting at the back of the queue, are the ones who should be standing at the front of it. Each other.?

The coffee shop is full this morning. Full of life. Full of laughter and conversation. The noise of busy mouths and busy minds.?

Busy on the surface...not so busy underneath.?

It's a caffeine microcosm. And right in the middle is The Thin Lady. Almost devoid of flesh.?

The clothes she’s wearing are almost her only substance. Sitting in front of her, on the table waiting, are a skinny latte and a slice of carrot cake. Untouched. Untasted. The largest slice Little Italy could find.?

She sees The Thin Lady look towards the door and search the crowd outside for the slim chance that ‘he’ might put in an appearance. That ‘he’ might take a chance and give a damn.?

She knows that, for as long as she’s known The Thin Lady, there have been many men in her life. And they all have one thing in common. Their lack of ability and desire to care for her.?

However, as well as being painfully slim, The Thin Lady is also emotionally blind. She cares about every one of them. They care not a fig about her. Not a jot. She’s merely a convenience.?

Except for one of them. The one she’s waiting for. The latest one. He’s different in every way.?

She knew it the instant she saw him for the first time. Yesterday. She knew he had possibilities. Potential.?

He drank his Americano black. And sweet. That was a good start.?

He’ll come again today. She knows. So she waits.?

Little Italy sees her looking at the door again and again. She knows that, sometimes, the worst thing that can happen is for our deepest desires to come true.?

She also knows that sometimes it’s the best thing that can happen.?

So she looks at the box on the wall, and somewhere inside the box, number 151 slips into view, slides onto the turntable and says a soft hello.

The curtains open. Nina Simone, High Priestess of Soul, sits at a grand piano.?

Her fingers move across the keys.?

The introduction is unmistakable. So is the voice. My Babe Just Cares for Me.?

The door opens and Babe walks in. He smiles and sits down at her table. Lifts a fork, spears a small chunk of carrot cake and feeds it to The Thin Lady. She lets the food enter her mouth and slowly makes it hers. Just like he is.?

At the counter Little Italy chalks up another small victory.?

There’s no such thing as coincidence.?

There’s only what is...?

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

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, any time of the day or night. Right here...

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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

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

Then grab a copy as fast as you can...