Jonathan caught himself on the countertop, knuckles white as he held on for dear life. Even as he stopped himself from falling forward, his head kept spinning.

He squeezed his eyes shut once and breathed in, hoping the dizziness would pass. The bitter smell of the coffee definitely helped clear his senses, and he felt some of the disorientation pass.

Jonathan opened his eyes and slowly looked up. The last of nausea passed as he made eye contact with the same dark eyes from before.

He stood up straight and took half a step back. He was sure his mouth was hanging open dumbly.

The customer was still staring at him. His face was made up entirely of hard lines and soft edges, with a strong jawline that ended in a gentle chin. To complement a straight, small nose that ended almost as a button.

Jonathan found he couldn't look him in the eye without feeling the edge of the dizziness coming back, but the glimpse he caught gave mixed emotional impressions. A sliver of brown around the man’s dark pupils wide in shock, but the eye was slightly narrowed in... amusement? Annoyance?

"Are you alright?" the customer asked, with a voice Jonathan would have never matched him with. It sent a shiver down his spine to hear it.

The words shocked him back to reality. He was so unfocused when the customer came in; he must have gone through the motions unthinking. The man had come in, ordered a cappuccino, and was waiting at his table for Jonathan to bring it to him.

"Y-yeah. Sorry about that, sir. I don't know what came over me," Jonathan managed. He slid the cappuccino on its saucer towards the customer.

Jonathan didn’t dare to look him in the eye, instead focusing on the edge of the counter, the other tables in the café… anything but the person in front of him. Nonetheless, when the customer's focus shifted to the cup before him, even briefly, he felt as if a weight were lifted off his shoulders. It was quickly replaced as the man’s focus returned to him.

Jonathan swallowed and looked up. A small, thin smile from the man caught his eye this time.

Somehow, this struck a nerve, and Jonathan worked his jaw side to side and brought himself to make eye contact again.

"Anything else I can help you with?" he finally said defiantly, but the twinge of anger that had brought this confidence was blown out by the stranger's unshaken gaze.

Jonathan felt himself withering and shrinking under his eyes, which remained unblinking, staring almost through his own.

“No. That will be all for now.”

As the man said this, he turned, and Jonathan listened to the heels of his shoes click on the floor all the way to his table. Jonathan felt the blood rushing to his face.

When he worked himself up to look again, the customer was gone, the cup left drained on the table. Feeling like an iron fist unclenched from around his throat, Jonathan quickly drew in a few shaky breaths.

Jonathan moved urgently to the front door, opened it, and peeked his head out. The sky was already dark, particularly cloudy for this time of year. A truck with an engine in its last years passed noisily, and down the street, he could make out some traffic around the main drag of San Luis, but that was it. No foot traffic to speak of on the street; just some streetlights beginning to blink and flicker on.

Jonathan closed the door and, after a long pause, locked it. He drew the shades on the large glass window at the front after clicking off the neon “OPEN” sign. Finally, he pulled out his phone, writing up a text for the owner.

‘Hi Vic, sorry to bother you, but I’ve had to close the store early- ‘ he began, but he deleted this, opting to call.

Eventually, this landed him at Vic’s voicemail.

Doing his best to sound unwell (which, in his current state, wasn’t difficult), he left a message for Vic, letting him know that he had locked Ghouls ‘n’ Brews early. He hadn’t seen any customers for a while, and he swore he had a stomach bug of some kind.

Unfortunately, his conscience did get the better of him, and he still spent the time tidying the café more, flipping chairs upside down onto the tables, one at a time, till he got to the one the customer had been at.

He found two things which made him pause at the table. Pinned under the empty cappuccino mug was a hefty tip, at least as much as he earned in two days working.

With trembling fingers, he reached out and picked up the bills, worn and slightly faded, counting them. He stared a little longer before folding them and stuffing them in his pocket.

Adjacent to the bills was a small, blank piece of cardstock, about the size of a business card. He picked this up and turned it over to find, neatly written in a graceful script.

‘Get well soon

A.’

In the top left corner of the card, “Muller & Muller Consulting Services” was pressed into the paper with bold lettering and a local address below.

Reading this, Jonathan tried to swallow with a dry throat and, without thinking, slipped the card into another pocket.

As quick as he could, he finished the rest of the closing procedures with hands shaking the whole time, then finally grabbed his jacket and keys from the small, dingy back office. He went to the door and reached out to turn the lights off.

His finger rested gently on the switch. For a moment, a strange paranoia began to settle in about what would happen with the lights out. He even considered locking himself inside the café, remembering his bicycle outside in the dark alley.

‘What has me so worked up? Why am I even closing the store early?’ he thought. But then he felt, for just a moment, how he had under the stranger’s eyes.

And after another shiver passed through him, he clicked off the lights, exited the café, and locked the door behind him.