The next day, I was dusting the brightly covered tables when the boy came in again. This time, he came much earlier in the day, around noon. He hovered awkwardly around before making his way to the counter and sitting on the same chair as yesterday. Quickly finishing up, I made my way to the counter and smiled at the boy. Today had been a slow day, and I was glad for any customers I could get.

“What would you like today?” I asked, trailing my fingers along the granite surface. I handed him a menu, and he glanced at it quickly. He bit his lower lip, trying to decide which coffee he wanted.

“A raspberry mocha,” he said, sliding the menu back to me. He dug out a laptop from his intensely decorated black backpack, and set it in front of him.

“Do you have Wi-Fi here?” he asked, plugging his charger into the wall socket. I nodded, not really paying attention as I prepared his drink. Soon, the fragrant scent of his order drifted into the air, and distracted even him as he rapidly typed away at his work. Silently, I placed his order in front of him, and settled back into my corner of the kitchen where I had my own work to do. We worked for a long time, and I only approached him to refill his cup. After a few hours, I noticed the boy had his head down on the hard counter, and was apparently asleep. I walked over to him, and stared at his eyes, which had deep bags under them, and his brows, which were slightly furrowed, even in his sleep. I watched him sleep for a while, before the tinkling of the bell, announcing another customer distracted me. The boy continued to sleep on.

“Hello,” I said from my place behind the counter. “What would you like today?” After placing his order, the newcomer gave me a dry look.

“You’re awfully generous if you take in strays,” he said, looking pointedly at the boy. I didn’t look up from making his drink and carefully said, “He’s a paying customer, not a stray.” I handed him his coffee and turned to the boy. He was still sleeping; his arms were huddled possessively around his laptop. I gave the man a wave as he left with his coffee. A slow trickle of customers came by, and I was reasonably busy for a couple of hours. The boy had still not woken up. By the time nine o’clock rolled around, I gently poked him on the shoulder.

“Five more minutes, hyung, and then I’ll be up,” he muttered, swatting his hand at me.  I sat there, counting five minutes. When time was up, I shook him slightly. This time, he woke up and stared at me confusedly for a few seconds. Then, he cursed and rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “for keeping you so long.” He rummaged around for some money and left it on the counter. “I hope I wasn’t too much of a bother.”

“You weren’t a bother,” I said, placing my hand on his shoulder, “I’m actually very thankful for your company.” For a moment, he looked panicked and stared at me suspiciously. I was bewildered and removed my hand from his shoulder. Did I offend him? I hoped not; I really did like his company, and if I drove him off, I knew I would regret it.

“I’m sorry about my forwardness,” I apologized, my eyes meeting his. He quickly diverted his gaze. Pushing himself away from the counter, he cleared his throat.

“Ninety percent of start with a touch on the shoulder,” he told me matter-of-factly. “But I think I’m going to trust you to preserve my ity.”

He left with a wink, and I was left holding onto the counter for support.

This time, he waved goodbye to me, and I quickly waved back.

I still didn’t know his name.