It was hard for me to concentrate on work the next day; I was distracted by thoughts of the previous night, and tried to come up with reasons for the boy’s behavior. The boy, however, did not show up and I fell asleep with my head on the counter.

For a week, the boy did not return, and I began to feel depressed. It was absurd that a stranger could affect me so deeply, and although I told myself that I missed him as a customer, I knew what I really missed was his enigmatic style of speech and quiet gentleness. With my other customers, I grew distant and was lost in my own thoughts. More than once, people asked me if I had broken up with a boyfriend.

The Friday after the boy’s last visit, I was sitting behind the counter, reading a book. Though the book was fairly interesting, my eyes strayed from the text and to the couple that was sitting at a table. They had ordered each other’s coffee and known exactly how much milk the other wanted. The girl particularly interested me; she was wearing a summer dress that stopped mid-thigh, and her makeup was expertly applied. I watched the girl laugh at her boyfriend’s joke, and lean forward to give him a light peck on his cheek. In their presence, I felt like an intruder even in my own café. The boyfriend turned to wipe a spot of cream off the girl’s lip and she kissed him back passionately. After a few minutes, I gave up watching them. The girl’s boldness in dress and touch made me feel uncomfortable; I was not one for dresses and usually wore sweaters and jeans even in the heat of summer. Even her makeup was impeccable and made her glow; I had no skill in layering or even using eyeliner. Momentarily, I wondered if the boy liked those types of girls, and I felt my heart sink slightly.

Later that night, as I was collecting the cups, the door opened and the boy ran in. His jacket was open and he was breathing heavily. Upon closer observation, I saw that his face was flushed and the bags under his eyes had darkened. Abandoning my cups, I walked up to him. He stared at me tiredly and sank into the sofa seat that lined the wall. Silently, he put his head down on the cool table and closed his eyes. Reaching my hand forward, I hesitated. Slowly, I put my hand against his forehead and drew back when I realized how hot it was. The boy had a fever.

I gathered a few pills and heated up some leftover chicken soup. When I returned to him, he was sitting up, and attempting to fight off his sleepiness. He glanced at me unhappily. Quietly, I slid the soup towards him and offered him some pills. He took the soup, but shook his head at the pills. I watched him eat, and wondered if he had gotten even skinnier. As soon as he finished the soup, he put his feet onto the sofa seat. He looked up me warily for a few moments before exhaustion overtook him and he placed his head onto my lap. I pressed a cool towel to his head and relaxed when I saw his brow unfurrow. He whispered something inaudible, and I smoothed out his hair.

Sometime during the night, I fell asleep with him.

It felt odd to think that a stranger could get rid of my insomnia…but I liked the idea.