The man looked surprised before shaking it.
“Jeremy.”
“Nice to meet you.”
I picked up the second cup and took a sip.
Black.
I immediately made a face.
Jeremy glanced over.
“Bad?”
“No.”
I looked toward the empty space where Larry used to sit.
“Just not mine.”
I stood and walked back toward the kiosk.
The woman behind the counter saw me approaching.
“Another black?”
I shook my head.
“Actually, could you put some cream in this one?”
When I returned to the bench, Larry’s letter and our marriage certificate rested beside me.
For once, I wasn’t rushing to work.
I wasn’t making phone calls.
I wasn’t filling out forms.
I wasn’t trying to rescue anyone.
I simply sat there.
And for the first time, the coffee in my hands tasted like it belonged to me.
