A young kid wearing a stained apron and no older than seventeen, places a steaming earthenware mug on the table in front of me. He smiles awkwardly, a blush creeping up his neck, perhaps from smiling at a woman, before he quickly turns and scurries away. I mumble thanks even though he’s out of earshot and roll up my chunky sweater sleeves before reaching for my coffee. The ceramic warms my hands as the steam coils up and around my face, the water droplets dancing in the minimal light flowing out of the low hanging glass lamps scattered around the ceiling. I close my eyes and listen to the sounds of the cafe around me. The hushed whispers of couples with their heads together fill my ears with sweetness and my lips curl up in response. A faint clanking and the sound of water comes from the kitchen area a...

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