Cup of Joe

He's Probably Going to Murder Me

I watch the man from the counter. He's sitting there, watching what's happening outside. I realize that I'm being kind of a stalker - but I feel so guilty. How could I just fall asleep on the job? Joe would be so disappointed. What if he fired me? What if he made me move out? Where would I go? 

"What's up with you?" A voice asks. I snap my head up and find the man at the counter. Crap. 

"Uh, nothing." 

"Really? I've been watching you stare at me out of the corner of my eye for the past 7 minutes." My cheeks grow a deep shade of red. 

"You saw that." I state. "I just feel bad about sleeping on the job." I stutter. 

"First job?" I shake my head. 

"Just an important job I wish to keep. Joe needs me." He nods. 

"So you want this job because Joe needs you? What about what you need?" I gasp at the question. It's something someone has never asked me before. I don't know how to answer the question. 

"I, uh, I'm not sure. I have time to figure that out." 

"How old are you?" I watch him place his cup at the counter and sit on one of the stools. His chin rests in his hands as he looks at me expectantly. 

"Twenty," 

"Well, I'm afraid you don't have time." I stare at him waiting for him to elaborate. "You're almost twenty-one, I presume. Your life as an adult has already begun. Let me ask you, as a kid, is this where you saw yourself?" 

"I mean, living above a coffee shop isn't exactly ideal -" I cut myself off. I just told the dude where I live! 

"See?"  His eyebrows raise and only then do I realize how handsome the man is. He has shaggy, brown hair and an abundance of freckles scattered all across his face. His mouth is turned up into a half-smirk. 

"I don't even know your name and here you are giving me advice on how to better my life." I blurt. 

"Lewis, Lewis Lee." I giggle. 

"Funny, that's my last name." What is wrong with you, Harper? First you tell the guy where you live, then you giggle, and then you tell him your last name? This dude probably wants to murder you or something! 

"I'm not going to murder you." 

"Did I say that out loud?" I ask in horror. 

"No, I can see those little gears moving though." He taps my forehead and shakes his head. "Well, Harper, I have to go. It's been nice. The coffee was great." I watch him go. How did he know my name? 

Sighing as I close up the shop, I flip the sign on the front door so it reads Closed. I huff my way up the stairs and open the door to my tiny apartment. It's not much, just about three rooms. There's a tiny kitchen and living room that are combined, a small bathroom and one room for me. I don't pay much to live here, just a mere thirty dollars a week. 

I tug my apron off and throw it onto my bed. Whilst changing, I think back to the man. He really was handsome. Collapsing on my bed, I look at my apron. 

The calligraphy. Gosh, I'm so stupid. That's how he knew my name. I throw my head back onto the pillow and laugh. 

I reach onto my nightstand and find the copy of To Kill A Mockingbird that Sylvia left me. Turning on my lamp, I open the book. Inside, aren't the actual words of the book - but the writing of Sylvia. I begin to read. 

Dear Harper...

A/N

So, here it is. Enjoy! Leave a comment or vote please. 

Question: Why do you think Sylvia gave the book and box to Harper?