Chapter 6: a coffee and a conversation

Abigail’s fingers hovered over her phone, the screen lighting up her pale face. She had texted James earlier, and to her surprise, he’d replied almost immediately.

James: Want to meet for coffee? I know a place that makes ridiculously good caramel lattes.

Her thumb hovered. Her heart beat faster than she thought possible. Sure, she typed finally.

The café smelled like warm bread and espresso, comforting yet strange after the last week’s chaos. Abigail walked in, scanning the room. Her eyes landed on a tall figure near the window, hoodie pulled up, hair slightly messy, a book in his hand.

“Abigail?” His voice was soft but carried, just enough for her to hear.

She nodded, smiling nervously. “Hey. Sorry, I’m…late.”

“Not at all. I just got here.” He closed his book and stood, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Caramel latte?”

She laughed quietly. “You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered. I have an excellent memory. Mostly for coffee orders and random trivia no one asked for.”

Abigail shook her head, feeling a little tension leave her shoulders. “Random trivia, huh? Like what?”

He grinned. “Did you know a shrimp’s heart is in its head?”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s…terrifying.”

“Exactly. Useful at parties,” he said.

They ordered their drinks and sat across from each other, the café bustling around them, yet it felt like a bubble had formed around their table.

“So,” Abigail started, stirring her latte nervously, “how do you…know about this place?”

James shrugged. “I come here sometimes after work. Quiet, warm, good music, and yes…great caramel lattes. Plus, it has a decent view of the street. People watching is…educational.”

Abigail laughed softly. “Educational, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “You see the little things people don’t notice, like the way someone tucks their hair behind their ear when they’re nervous, or how they tap their foot when they’re impatient.”

She found herself smiling, noticing the way his hands rested lightly on the table, his posture relaxed yet alert. “You notice all that?”

“Yeah. Humans are fascinating,” he said simply. “Especially the ones who look like they’ve been through too much but are still…well, walking.”

Her chest tightened a little. “You mean me?”

“Maybe,” he said, letting a small smile linger. “Maybe. But I think it applies to everyone in different ways.”

The conversation drifted easily. James asked about her week, her friends, little mundane things, but the way he listened — really listened — made her feel like her words were important. She talked about small things, awkward things, the way she sometimes laughed even when sad, the half-finished projects she never finished at home.

He didn’t judge. He didn’t offer advice. He just…acknowledged her. Nodded. Asked questions. Followed her lead.

At one point, she laughed so hard her drink threatened to spill. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you thought a shrimp’s heart is terrifying.”

“It is!” he protested, mock-offended. “I almost died the first time I learned that.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head, but warmth spread through her chest.

James leaned back slightly, his smile softer now. “I like ridiculous.”

They lingered over coffee long after they finished their drinks, talking about music, movies, books, and childhood memories. Abigail realized she had forgotten about the outside world entirely. Her mind wasn’t focused on grief, or her empty apartment, or the fact that her life had changed forever without Lila.

She was just…here.

When the sunlight shifted, marking the late afternoon, James finally checked his watch. “I probably should head home before it gets too late.”

Abigail felt a pang of disappointment. “Yeah…me too.”

He hesitated for a moment, then pulled out his phone. “Hey, can I…uh, can I get your number? I’d like to keep talking. Not just here.”

She nodded, a small, tentative smile forming. “Yeah, sure.”

They exchanged numbers, both fumbling slightly with their phones. He grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t spam you…too much.”

“Good,” she said, laughing quietly. “I don’t do spam.”

They stood, awkwardly lingering. “Thanks,” Abigail said finally. “For the coffee, and…you know…listening.”

James smiled warmly. “Anytime. Really.”

She felt lighter than she had in days, as though a small crack in her grief had allowed a sliver of sunlight to touch her heart.

As they parted ways, Abigail walked home slowly, phone in hand, rereading their messages. She felt nervous and excited at the same time, a strange mixture she hadn’t felt in a long while.

Maybe…maybe this was the start of something different. Something she needed. Something alive.