chapter four
Musec h a p t e r f o u r .
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The next few days came and passed without much pomp or circumstance. Autumn deepened as October came to a close. The beautiful, bright red leaves of the early season had all mostly fallen by now, leaving behind only the orange-yellow, yellow, and brownish leaves that were still hanging on to their respective tree branches.
Wendy had no shame in admitting to herself that ever since he had stepped out of the building that Wednesday afternoon at The Roost, she hadn’t done much else besides think about him.
The following day, Thursday, was her other day off for the week, so she relished in the opportunity to stay in bed all morning (except to make a cup of coffee and a couple of frozen waffles) and replay what she already knew about him in her mind.
She was frustrated that she didn’t know more.
She kept him on repeat for a few hours, pausing momentarily to ask herself, Is this a bit weird? Thinking about him like this? Am I obsessed?
But she couldn’t help it. He was fascinating to her, and she couldn’t help but feel like the two were destined to meet, somehow. Destined to be...
...Destined to be what?
Swinging her feet over the edge of the bed, she sat up and shook her head once before crazily mussing up her hair with her hands in an attempt to ‘wake up.’
She spent the rest of the day baking applesauce bread that she had promised Mr. Cho that she would make for the weekly special at The Roost next week. The local bakery where they normally got their baked goods was moving their location to a few cities over, so Mr. Cho had to look around for a replacement.
Meanwhile, Wendy used her grandmother’s ‘famous’ recipe for applesauce bread to bake two dozen loaves for the upcoming week.
In an additional attempt to keep herself occupied, she the radio as she flitted about the kitchen.
(Amber was still absent.)
“Again today, I’m following your heart like a star
I’ll linger around you
Stop, I’m dizzy
Now I want to know your clear heart”
Sang the radio at one point.
Wendy’s thoughts got a bit sidetracked.
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Despite herself, Wendy couldn’t help but spend every minute at work the next day wondering if Chen would visit again.
He didn’t.
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Saturday was mostly the same, except much busier. Wendy must have made five dozen coffee drinks that day.
As Mr. Cho was busy dealing with phone calls and other business stuff (he seemed to always get backed up at least once or twice a month), Wendy was starting to feel a bit lonely there, behind the counter.
And Chen was nowhere to be seen.
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“In the night sky, on the streets
It’s all filled with you
If you need more time
I’ll wait for you again, but...”
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Finally, he returned. It was late Sunday afternoon, just an hour or so before The Roost was to close for the day.
Wendy was busy making a vanilla bean frappe (it still baffled the barista how anyone would want a cold drink during this time of the year) for a particularly snooty-looking woman with a bright pink coat and funny-shaped glasses. She was so occupied with making the drink that she didn’t notice that he had walked in.
He stood in line behind the snooty woman, his face blank.
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