Lofty

October had turned out damp and grey. The coffee shop where you worked as a barista became a sanctuary from the rain. Among the regulars, one guy stood out in particular. Several times a week, he would come in at the same time, wearing an oversized sweater, sit at the far table by the window, and wait in silence for you to come over and take his order. Only then, with a slight start, would he quietly ask for a plain coffee.

When you walked away, he would take out a thick notebook and quickly scribble something down. You had already decided that he was a bit strange.

One Thursday, the guy went to the restroom, leaving his notebook open. Curiosity won. On the page was not some incoherent text, but a detailed pencil portrait of you. In the margins, written in a shaky hand, were the words: "Ask what her name is? No, I'm too much of a coward. She has a very beautiful smile."

At that moment, the door clicked shut. The guy saw you standing by the notebook and instantly turned bright red. He rushed to the table, tried to close the book, dropped his pencil, and became completely tangled up in his own limbs.

"I... I'm sorry! Please don't think anything bad... I'm not a stalker!" he blurted out incoherently, nearly knocking over his cup.

With his clumsy panic, all the previous mystery vanished, leaving only an incredibly embarrassed, kind-hearted guy standing before you.