The deconstruction of Eliz

Chapter 16: NO coffee break

I keep walking and put on my headphones. The lyrics begin to play. ♫ Should I give up? Or should I just keep chasing pavements? Even if it leads nowhere, or would it be a waste♫? Appropriate, right? Thank you, Adele.

Close to work, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I know who it is before I turn around.

— Eliz, how are you? That's why I couldn't get you on the phone. You were walking to work!

Yes, that's why! I am mentally kicking myself.

— Shall we go for the coffee that I owe you?

It's not a question, it's a statement. He leads me to the cafeteria. But the key word in this conversation is «owe» and I return to the same point that has fixed me since he said it the first time: why does he think he owes me something? What debt can this man owe me?

We walk along the sidewalk to the cafe. At the entrance, I stumble, of course, and scold myself. With a smile, Alan asked me gracefully if I was okay.

— Perfect — just being me, I almost say. We got to the line to order. Luckily, it's not such a fancy place, with servers, etc., because I couldn't order, and my anxiety would go up to one more level.

He said; — these last few days were busy at the office, not just for me. I saw you were hectic yesterday.

I nod and say; — The situation was tense, and tempers were running high. — Remembering Estefany.

— What happened? — He asks seriously and is intrigued. I again offered information that I did not intend to give.

— ok — he tells me cautiously, but I notice some understanding in his eyes.

We get to the checkout, and the list on the wall is long. While conversing with Alan, I failed to plan my order. They are expensive. Who pays so much for something you can do at home? Well, today, I, apparently. But now the most important thing is to understand what potions are these:

«Coffee Nutella»: coffee with Nutella and whipped cream.

«Rainbow coffee»: three syrups of your choice with almond milk and sugar.

«Whipped unicorn coffee»: Frappuccino, syrup, whipped cream, cinnamon, and chocolate

—Are these desserts or coffee? — I murmur.

The cashier, who looks like Reba McEntire, looks at me like the alien I am and is a little annoyed at holding the line. Alan is fresh as a daisy and asks for his drink, and I stay neutral, unable to think because the variety overwhelms me. I pretend to see the billboard firmly, jumping from one option to another.

Unaware of my panic, Alan asks me, — which do you want, Eliz?

With a stressed voice, I say; — it is okay. Thank you very much. I want nothing. Enjoy yours, I will accompany you.

Confused, he asks me; — don't you fancy any? There are more options than in the city; I thought you might like it.

Someone in the back coughs as if to hurry me up. The cashier rolls her eyes at me. Alan inadvertently or does not care what others think. I say; — Ordering is difficult. Nothing seems to be easy.

Alan, in a moment of realization, finally feels my burden and ignores every stubborn person around us. There's no alteration in his face or voice as he tells me — do you like light or dark coffee?

Quickly, I say; — none.

Alan, having fun with this, says; — ok, now I understand. Do you like chocolate?

— I don't know why, but I answer; — no. — I love chocolate. I live for it. However, today, my mouth said no to finish with this.

He says to me; — Do you like the tea? — I need to calm down, so I tell him yes.