Joe Singh

joe singh is warm like the coffee he makes, he smells like cinnamon and old spice, and he always serves you with a smile. you come into the blue farm cafe almost every night, weird time to drink coffee but you hate mornings and only drink decaf anyway so it barely even counts, or at least that’s what you think. of course joe makes fun of you for your inability to drink real caffeine, and generally any drink that’s not coated in caramel and whip-cream, but you just tell him he has bad taste.

tonight was no different from any other night. you got off of work, grabbed your keys, and got on your way to the cafe. only it actually was sort of different. that was the short version of the story, what really happened was far less cute and cozy.

nevertheless, you arrived at the cafe. you felt stupid, walking into the almost empty building in your waitress uniform, mascara streaming down your face, 20 minutes till closing.

“joe?” you called out, tugging at your stupid dress. “uhm- is joe back there?” you leaned over the counter, quickly wiping your eyes.

and there he was. tall, pretty eyed, and that smile-that immediately dropped when he saw your face. “oh, Sofy” his head tilted to one side. “hi joe” you replied, forcing yourself to smile, which caused a few salty tears to fall in your mouth. just then, he shouted in his loud voice, which you forgot he had sometimes because he always seemed so.. soft and gentle to you, “everyone get out, were closing early.”

it wasn’t that hard to clear the cafe, considering there were like two other people in there, but after he did, he didn’t waste a second waiting to hold your hand, wipe your tears, and ask you how you were feeling.

“ok” you nodded, watching him give you a look of disbelief. “not okay..” you stared at the blueberry scone that was now placed in front of you. and for some reason, the crying only amplified at that

“shh.. shhh” joe walked around the counter, he somehow how seemed both calm and frantic.