Invoice #209
Sep 23rd, 2010 by john
Maurice sat at the cafe table drumming his fingers. He had arrived an hour early in anticipation and passed the time over a couple cups of coffee. Now he was jittery and impatient. She should be here soon, he thought, glancing at his watch once again. Time never seemed to move when he waited for her.
Finally, he saw her walking around the corner. Her long black coat whipping around her legs showed glimpses of the tall black leather boots she always seemed to wear. Maurice couldn't even imagine her in jeans and a t-shirt. He chuckled silently with the image of her in a t-shirt he saw in the news shop with "got lasagna?" bedazzled on it. She had a stern determined look on her face showing evidence of a busy morning. Perhaps her other appointments didn't go well this week, Maurice thought.
She swept toward the table and enveloped the chair, suddenly becoming part of the table as if she had been there for hours. Nothing was said. She just looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Almost as if she was questioning him on why he was keeping her waiting. Maurice sighed and smiled. She didn't smile back. Instead she reached into her bag and pulled out a small paper sack. She held it close and studied Maurice as if she was debating whether or not he was worthy of such an item. After a few seconds the debate was settled and she slid the bag across the table. Maurice restrained from snatching the paper bag up and ripping it open immediately. He tried that once and it took two months for her to get over it. Two long months of him apologizing and begging for her to return. Instead he calmly took another sip of coffee, leaned forward and slid some bills across to her. She scooped them up and rose from the table, turned and, in a whirl of black leather, strode out of the cafe.
Maurice watched her leave and with kid like enthusiasm ripped open the bag. The fragrant aromas of almonds, cinnamons, butter and sugar rose out from the bag and danced across his face. He closed his eyes, smiled and inhaled deeply. This made the whole morning worth it. No one can create a croissant like her.