☛ Coffee Time
It had been a year since his most obscure, most memorable case.
It brought cold aches to his chest as he delved into his pool of memories.
A quiet town shrouded in false tales, yet blessed with the most diverse people.
Greenvale.
He remembered his first meeting with the town folk: Emily and George had greeted him, with some contempt, but that was to be expected. He was an agent, and an outsider to them and their community. Even so, they began to warm to him. He didn’t expect to become so attached, yet he didn’t regret it the fact that he did.
York dipped the rest of his recently bitten doughnut into his coffee; still dripping, he then stuffed the remains into his mouth.
“Right, Zach?” York tore a chunk out of his doughnut. He hung onto the taste of sweetness in his mouth whilst toying with the questions in his head. Zach hadn’t been talking to him. Why was that? He understood that Zach needed some time to himself, but two months was a tad excessive in York’s opinion.
He dipped the remains of the doughnut into his coffee and used it to churn. The coffee swirled in a disruptive circle creating a mixture of dark rings and cream coils. York watched intently - immersed in the sight unfolding before him.
‘N’.
That’s all the coffee said. Distraught, he sat back and released a deep sigh. This was not the end to the night he wanted.
“Excuse me, sir?” Startled, York turned to look up at the woman who was standing beside him. She wore a diner outfit – it was a blue dress that had yellow trims complete with a white apron which seemed at bit too big for her stature. Her hair had been dyed recently, York could tell: the roots where light whereas the rest of her hair was auburn. She stood holding used plates in both hands that weighted her down, but this did not stop her from wearing a smile.
“The diner closes at eleven, and it’s five-to right now. You’ll have to leave soon I’m afraid sir.” York glanced at his sterling watch. It wasn’t five-to, it was six-to. He looked up again and wore his own polite grin, rivalling hers.
“Yes, sorry. Zach and I will be leaving shortly.” She looked around past his shoulder to the seat next to him, her searching eyes becoming increasingly confused.
“Well, when he gets back, can you make sure he does leave please?” Her manners shined through her bewilderment.
“Ah, you’re mistaken. He’s here, but he’s been neglecting me lately…and I’m not sure why.” His smile weakened at this reminder. The waitress hesitated and then took a cautious step back; the plates piled on one arm rattled from the motion[replace + add].
“Okay then sir…”She nodded and then left to clean up the counters, taking time to look back at York every now and then.
York pressed his middle and forefinger against his temple.
“Zach, you don’t make the best first impressions, do you?” He then turned his attention to his mug. It was still warm and when he drank from it he could taste an earthy tang in unison with the creamy taste of milk. It was coffee just the way he liked it. Content, he got up making sure to tuck his chair in after, thanked the waitress (who now parted herself to the end of the diner) then exited the diner.
Outside the rain hit the ground delicately. Soon the rain would get heavier, as made evident by the looming clouds above, and then York would have to take refuge; for now he didn’t feel like returning to his hotel.
The air was unforgiving; it wore a chilly aura as it made its way through the city of New Orleans. Streetlights were scarce, and even ones that were present often flickered with fault. It was the perfect setting for one of his walks.
Unwillingly a grim image flashed in his mind. His father stood boldly, gun in hand – his mother lying bathed in her own life’s blood, she muttered for mercy and then a bullet rung out loud. He closed his eyes and came to a halt.
“Why did it have to be like this…?” He cradled his own arms in a humble attempt to comfort himself.
A sharp scream pierced his ears. York turned in the direction of it; he had wound up down an alley dimly lit by the moonlight above from what he could tell,