The Coffee Shop Caper
He was a square man sitting at a square table. His hair was neatly slicked back with what one could assume was a measured squirt of high quality hair gel. His shoes were neatly shined as they were every Tuesday and Thursday and his geometrical red tie neatly disappeared beneath two black lapels. Approximately a half an hour had gone by since Neven sat down at the imitation oak table to sip from, what felt like, a half empty cappuccino. He doesn't use cream and forgot to tell them not to leave room. Which was unlike Neven. He didn't forget things often. His life was remarkably un-remarkable. --- Carlie was fresh out of college. Staring down the barrel of the next forty or fifty work years of her life. It felt daunting to say the least. The only reason she came to this coffee shop was because it is the least scummy place to be in this general area...and she didn't mind the scent of freshly ground coffee beans. The twenty-something had both hands cupped around a half...