I wrung my hands under the counter and adjusted my apron uncomfortably.  It had been a few days since I’d gotten the job at the coffee shop, but I still wasn’t very used to it.  I mixed up a few people’s orders, spilled a couple drinks, and got scolded by the manager countless times.  There she was now, giving me the beady eye again, daring me to make another mistake.

                The chime on the door jingled and a tall boy walked in. 

                I plastered on my best smile. 

                “Hi!” I exclaimed a little too enthusiastically.  “What can I get you?”

                He barely glanced at the menu.  “Black coffee.”

                I nodded and punched his order into the computer, telling him the price.  He produced a few bills.  Our fingers brushed as I took them from him.

                “What’s your name?” I asked, uncapping a Sharpie and taking a paper cup from the stack.

                He stared at me for a beat as if he was unprepared for the question and forgot his own name. 

                “Mingyu,” he replied. 

                I smiled a little more naturally that time.  He had a nice name.

                “Your order should be out in a bit,” I told him, handing him his change.  He pocketed the bills and dropped the coins into the tip jar.

                I managed to serve him his coffee without spilling anything.  He thanked me and went to sit at a window seat not far from the counter. 

                I breathed out a sigh of relief and the manager huffed behind me.

                Safe.

                Mingyu came into the shop every day after that.  I came to enjoy and almost rely on his presence.  People usually had complicated orders – hold the whipped cream, two shots of espresso, half the amount of ice – but he was simple and always ordered the same thing.  The sounds of his voice and the clank of his coins in the tip jar became familiar and warm. 

                One night, as the shop was closing for the day, I brushed past a row of napkins that were taped behind the counter.  A couple fluttered to the ground.  I bent and picked them up. 

                There were cute drawings etched into the paper blend that seemed to belong to a collection.  A lot of them featured a girl in a coffee shop apron.

                I called over one of my co-workers. 

                “Did you draw these?” I asked.

                “Oh, those?  Nope.  Someone kept leaving them on the table and I thought it was a waste to throw them away so I put them here.  Cute, right?  They look like something from a comic.”

                I nodded and flipped over one of the napkins that had a drawing of an angry man in a suit whose head was disproportionate to the rest of his body.  There was a note scribbled on the back.  That guy was a jerk.  Don’t let it get you down.  Fighting!

                Curious, I took the other napkins and flipped them over.  They all had writing, comments about the weather or compliments about the person who was supposed to be reading these.  The gentle and sweet tone of the letters made it feel like I was being embraced by the author.  I couldn’t shake the intuition that these were meant for me.  But who were they from?

                The next afternoon, the manager summoned me with a crook of her finger. 

                “You should do something to get rid of that boy over there.  He just sits there and glances over here ever so often like a creeper.  The shop’s busy and we need open seats.” 

                I looked over to see who she was talking about.  She was pointing at Mingyu, his shoulders hunched over something.  I frowned at her, feeling suddenly protective of my frequent customer and went over to him. 

                His regular order of black coffee was pushed to the corner of the table, untouched.  He had a pen in one hand and was concentrating hard on what was in front of him.  He hadn’t noticed my approach.

                “Mingyu?”

                He jumped and cursed, looking up at me.  I caught sight of what he was working on.  There was a cute drawing of a smiling girl in a coffee shop apron.  There was a nametag attached just over where her heart would be with my name on it.

                Realizing it was me, he covered the napkin with his palm, his ears turning red. 

                With a smile, I slid into the seat opposite him.  He straightened his posture and was avoiding my eyes.

                “Your coffee is getting cold,” I told him.

                “I don’t like coffee,” he muttered.  Then he looked me right in the eyes.  My heart skipped a beat.

                “I like you.”