Status: Completed.
The Guy at the Coffee Shop
Noticed
"Uh, yeah, can I get a flat white?"
Mumbled and more pleasing to the ear than a bellow of an order, they were the first words Frank heard from Gerard's mouth. And as Gerard stuffed his hand into his jeans pocket to find some money to pay for his order, Frank nodded politely and prepared the drink just like he did for any other customer.
Of course, Frank didn't know that Gerard was the name of the dark-haired, pale guy and, initially, he didn't pay him any more attention than any other customer he served. But over the course of winter he soon found out that this particular customer would become a regular - and that regular would catch his eye more than anyone else ever had.
And each time Frank heard the guy speak his words were the same because 'yeah, can I get a flat white?' became Gerard's requested order every time.
And every time, it happened in the same way.
He'd walk in, in dark jeans and a dark shirt with a leather jacket, and he'd make his way to the counter, his eyes roaming the menu board all though each time his words were unchanged and unaffected by what he read.
He'd utter those same words whether it be with a sound of hesitation or a sound of decision. In whatever way he said them, the words would be the same. It was always a flat white. Nice and simple. Each time.
And Frank would nod and he'd make the drink. And the first time, he didn't give the guy another look or linger his eyes at all. The first time, he just looked straight to the next customer. Because it was work, and work was work, no matter who he served.
And then Gerard became a regular. He'd come in often. It was scattered, his appearances, at first. He'd come in on any day at any time. Weekend or week day, in the morning, at midday, in the afternoon or just before the shop closed. But then, slowly, over the winter months, he shuffled into the coffee shop at exact seemingly scheduled times.
And once Frank had noticed that the guy would come in at a certain time - around half past four, to be exact - he also noticed that he made sure he was on his shift to work then, too.
Because it soon became pretty obvious that Gerard was a regular. Some weeks, he'd come in more than once - multiple times, even. And if Frank was lucky to be working, he'd serve him on those unscheduled visits too.
But what was set in stone was the way that every Sunday afternoon Gerard would be there without fail. It could be raining. It could be snowing. It didn't matter, he'd be there.
And every Sunday afternoon, Frank would be there too.
Mumbled and more pleasing to the ear than a bellow of an order, they were the first words Frank heard from Gerard's mouth. And as Gerard stuffed his hand into his jeans pocket to find some money to pay for his order, Frank nodded politely and prepared the drink just like he did for any other customer.
Of course, Frank didn't know that Gerard was the name of the dark-haired, pale guy and, initially, he didn't pay him any more attention than any other customer he served. But over the course of winter he soon found out that this particular customer would become a regular - and that regular would catch his eye more than anyone else ever had.
And each time Frank heard the guy speak his words were the same because 'yeah, can I get a flat white?' became Gerard's requested order every time.
And every time, it happened in the same way.
He'd walk in, in dark jeans and a dark shirt with a leather jacket, and he'd make his way to the counter, his eyes roaming the menu board all though each time his words were unchanged and unaffected by what he read.
He'd utter those same words whether it be with a sound of hesitation or a sound of decision. In whatever way he said them, the words would be the same. It was always a flat white. Nice and simple. Each time.
And Frank would nod and he'd make the drink. And the first time, he didn't give the guy another look or linger his eyes at all. The first time, he just looked straight to the next customer. Because it was work, and work was work, no matter who he served.
And then Gerard became a regular. He'd come in often. It was scattered, his appearances, at first. He'd come in on any day at any time. Weekend or week day, in the morning, at midday, in the afternoon or just before the shop closed. But then, slowly, over the winter months, he shuffled into the coffee shop at exact seemingly scheduled times.
And once Frank had noticed that the guy would come in at a certain time - around half past four, to be exact - he also noticed that he made sure he was on his shift to work then, too.
Because it soon became pretty obvious that Gerard was a regular. Some weeks, he'd come in more than once - multiple times, even. And if Frank was lucky to be working, he'd serve him on those unscheduled visits too.
But what was set in stone was the way that every Sunday afternoon Gerard would be there without fail. It could be raining. It could be snowing. It didn't matter, he'd be there.
And every Sunday afternoon, Frank would be there too.