When The Man comes around...

You ever sat down...leaned back...closed your eyes...and breathed in deeply as a little early morning coffee shop jazz filtered through the skin?

It's a whole new patchwork quilt kinda comfort blanket.

Wrap it around you.

Feel the warmth seep into the bones.

Life may come kicking and screaming into the world. But easing yourself into the day deserves a more sedate approach. More considered.

More pick me up slowly and put me down gently.

It might not be sunny on the outside, but it sure as Hell is on the inside. Inside the coffee shop the warmth is dripping off the walls.

A serious, sweating, roly-poly of a man is servicing the mini-me coffee machine. It’s old and cold. It doesn’t produce the goods like it used to.

It’s espresso deficient. Latte challenged. Minus Mocha and sans steam.

Little Italy is sympathetic. Empathetic. She knows that Big Brother is by her side.

Not he of the Georgie-boy and 1984. Not Apple’s cinema commercial’s hammer-throwing beauties. This Big Brother is a stainless steel behemoth. The patron saint of the finest coffee creations. Large, shining, with whistles and bells and fast-action knobs, buttons and levers.

From the box on the wall the track shifts and music from the movie The Piano oozes like sweat from pores.

It’s carried on pregnant air molecules to grateful ears. The score is haunting. The composer is Michael Nyman. The soundtrack album is rated in the top 100 of all time.

Who would have guessed? Who could have known? Who else but Little Italy?

She knows that every now and then all the possible combinations of musical notes in the known world come together to work a little magic.

All the sharps and flats put on a show, take a bow, and disappear into the wings. Until the next time.

She knows this. And so does The Man in Black. The Man sitting by the window. Not facing the world outside. Facing the one inside. Facing everyone who comes in looking for refuge and caffeine.

When this man comes to town and heads for the coffee shop, folk move sideways and give up their sidewalk space.

When he reaches the door, he always finds it open. He doesn’t even go to the bar to order a drink. Little Italy always has one waiting for him. Large Americano. Four sugars. One short squeeze of toffee syrup.

Sitting on a table that has reserved written all over it.

He always drinks coffee. He always stays an hour. Not a skinny second more. He always leaves a mouthful in the bottom of the cup when he goes. And nobody ever sees him vacate the premises.

I can see him now. Sipping slowly. Right leg crossed over left. White skin. Black under black over black outfit. Neat black hair with a Superman curl at the forehead. Ice blue eyes scanning the room.

Little Italy sees the scan. She nods at the box on the wall and the box shifts gear. Slides number 54 onto the turntable.

The curtains open. Johnny Cash is standing at the mike. Acoustic strapped on. Fully loaded. Everybody sits up and listens when the man comes around.

The Man in Black’s gaze rests on Little Italy. He smiles. She smiles. He winks. She nods. Head down.

When it comes back up…he’s gone...

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

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...

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

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

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