The report was due in three hours. It was the same each time. For six years he had neglected it until the final hours, possibly with hope he would be gone before it was due again. He crammed his gear into a bag and left the office, driving in search of an anonymous coffee shop with a view of the future. Wandering consumed another hour and he exited the highway into Smalltown Anyplace, resigned to get it over with, or just copy the report from last year. It was not like anything had changed. Cruising the main street, he spied a neon wi-fi sign and pulled in.
The café was dim, despite the bank of windows overlooking the river. He ordered something tall and black and absently searched for a table. Getting comfortable was not an option, so he committed to getting caffeinated. He slid the cup aside and littered the table with the trappings of modern convenience.
Reading the report from last year, he confirmed nothing had changed. He considered options while checking email and scrolling through text messages on his phone. He opened a browser, seeking distraction, and noticed the waning battery life. Eyes sought a power outlet. The only one visible was on the far side of the room, near the fireplace and a seat that was already taken. There were no other chairs within range.
He strayed from the distractions and stared at the document again, performing a global search and replace on some of his frequently used adjectives. Maybe they wouldn’t notice it was the same file he submitted last year. He looked toward the seat by the fireplace. The girl in the chair was reading a book, not even using the outlet. His phone vibrated. The ex. More money. Ignore. Back to email. A customer needed a quote by the end of the day. There were a few messages from the dating service he had unsuccessfully enrolled in last year, yet was too ashamed to cancel.
He saw the battery indicator again and looked toward the outlet. She was still there, fingers twirling curls, sandal dangling from bouncing toes. He returned to the annual review. He tried to think of a significant project that defined his year. Nothing. Justifying his existence to his employer always made him question his existence on this planet. He looked away from the screen and gulped cooling coffee. Her mouth tilted as if she had just discovered a secret. Sandals dropped on the stone floor and bare legs tucked under her draping skirt.
The report was due in less than an hour. He estimated twenty minutes of battery life. He cut out a paragraph and pasted it higher in the report. Pleased with the result, he did the same with a few more. Sunlight reflecting off the river crawled across the café. The young woman pulled her hair away from her face and light danced through curls and across her exposed neck. Lashes fluttered. She lifted the book and opened her eyes.
His phone buzzed. A client. Ignore. He rubbed at his temples and took another mouthful of his cold coffee. He hadn’t seen her take a single sip of hers. Why was she in a coffee shop, not drinking coffee and sitting in the only seat near a power outlet? He glared at the document and changed the dates and the name of his supervisor, the only two things that were different each year. He sent email replies as his battery indicator dipped into the red zone. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried the breathing exercises he had learned in group therapy.
When he opened them, he was surprised to see the woman walking directly toward him. She brushed by, skirts swirling around tattooed ankles. Honey. He expected she would smell more like citrus. Her eyes were light, and she was not as young as she had seemed, curled up in the armchair. He seized the opportunity.
Sweeping gear back into the bag, he leaped up and dashed for the chair near the outlet. He rifled for the power cord, plugging in the computer and spreading chaos on the coffee table. Her mug was still there, seemingly untouched, but with a clear outline of pink lipstick along the rim. Tea. He was wrong again. He opened the laptop and stared at the screen. The sun shone on the monitor, his work obscured. He sighed and flopped back in the chair, rubbing his neck. Eyes searched the room again, and he noticed another outlet on the wall, directly under the table he had just vacated.
