The familiar chime greeted Joseph as he entered Miguel’s Cafe. Everything seemed the same as it always was. The atmosphere was, anyway. Miguel was zipping to and fro from customer to customer, and the room was filled with friendly banter and casual chatter, interrupted by moments of greetings and whatever tea they wanted to have. A child was hobbling around, circling each seat followed by a hunched up mother, switching between demeaning baby-talk and demonic scolding.

Joseph smiled and shuffled to an empty seat by the bar table at the end of the window. He dropped his bag next to the high swivel chair and propped himself up on the red plastic seat. It was not the same without the familiar welcome from the large man, but coffee is coffee.

“Ah, hey Joseph!” Miguel looked down and said hello to the small figure zipping past him, “I’ll take your order in a bit.”

Joseph smiled and waved back. Hopefully that did not give anything away, but his squinted, bloodshot eyes begged to differ.

Looking back, that was the first time Joseph had cried in a long while.

Joseph shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that would stop the flow of his tears.

‘I’d rather not right now.’

Joseph took all of his pensive energy and shifted it somewhere else. He took out his phone and did what he usually does to bide the time - scroll through social media.

‘Nah.’

He gave up after a few scrolls. Nothing really new to update on when everyone was still ticking to the rhythm of the workday clock. Apathetic, Joseph slid his phone back into his pocket.

He took out his phone and scrolled, his eyes glossing over not really absorbing any of the words or pictures stretched out before him. He slid the phone back into his pocket. Again.

He took out his phone and—

Joseph sighed, and crossed his arms around his phone and laid down his head and closed his eyes.

“What about your son, Jared was it?”

“Jerald.”

“Jerald. Has he graduated yet?”

“With high honors!”

“Oh congrats!”

“Yeah, he landed a job immediately after getting his diploma!”

“Oh that’s amazing!”

“Look at this. He bought this for me with his first paycheck!”

Joseph congratulated Jerald for his fortune while holding back the strong urge to fight.

Who?

Probably god themself, who took the form of these two chatty ladies to play a cruel trick on him.

The phone vibrated under him, as if on cue to save him from any further blasphemies. Joseph raised his head and took a look at his phone. It was Celine.

Bitch how’s the diploma situation going???

Joseph tapped the notification twice.

No diploma

Have to march first

Sad

Three dots popped up on the lower-left side of the screen.

---

Why?

You got your units done earlier than most of us

Just go on a vacation or something

...

Lying around isnt a vacation

It’s torture

Joseph waited for a reply, but there was none. The upper-right corner read ‘3:45 PM’, Celine was still in class. He sighed. With no one to talk to, what else is there? Joseph hunched over the table and skid his chin over the wooden table.

There’s a red car.

There’s another red car. That’s two - oh hey that one had some decals.

Third.

Fourth.

Fifth.

--------------------------------------

Joseph felt two taps on his right shoulder, and spun around in response.

“Finally.” Miguel smiled, holding a pad of paper while twirling a pen with his left hand. “What are you gonna have?”

“Cappuccino.” Joseph replied.

“As usual.” Miguel said, writing down Joseph’s order. “Anything else.”

“Nah. Honestly, why even bother? You know I always get a cappuccino.”

“You had tea and cake before.”

“Fair point.” Joseph shrugged.

Joseph could see an elderly man raise his hand from behind. “Excuse me!”

“Ah, I’ll be with you in a moment.” Miguel looked at the direction the voice was coming from, still holding onto the pen and paper.

“Nah,” Joseph closed his eyes and waved his right hand back-and-forth, “Take your time, you can leave mine for last.”

“You sure?”

Joseph nodded and smiled at the large man. Miguel mouthed a small ‘thank you’ and bowed. He headed to the old man’s group to see what he wanted. Joseph watched from his seat, chin on his palm, as the large man worked. Miguel was writing up a storm, taking note of every treat and drink the group wanted—presumably. Two sheets of paper were used. It took him about half a minute to repeat every order, and a few more seconds were tacked on due to last minute additions. After everything seemed like it was in line, signalled by the group’s constant nodding, Miguel bowed and mouthed something, getting behind the counter, grabbing a pan, putting mugs under the coffee machine, and grabbing saucers from the dishrack.

A pair was trying to catch Miguel’s attention from behind the counter, but their voices were too soft for the large man to notice. Joseph hopped off from the chair and hobbled towards the counter.

“Hey can I borrow this?” Joseph said, grabbing the same pen and paper he used.

“Hmm?” Miguel looked up for a split-second, maneuvering a pan over the flames “Yeah sure.”

Joseph walked over to the pair and managed a weak smile. “What will you have?”

He listened, nodding along every dish. Carbonara. Spicy Sardine Pesto. Hibiscus Tea. Green Apple Soda.

“Will that be all?” Joseph asked. The pair nodded. Joseph shuffled back to the front of the counter and was faced with a problem. Should he ring the bell? Go behind the counter and give the order slip directly? Ring the bell and go behind the counter?

“Miguel!” he exclaimed as he slammed his hand down the bell.

“Yeah?!” Miguel’s voice cracked, his head swiftly turning towards Joseph, slouching after the preliminary shock dissipated. “Don’t do that.”

Joseph slid over the paper to the large man. Miguel stared at the sheets for a few seconds, staring back at him with a hanging smile, one eyebrow higher than the other.

“You handle the kitchen,” Joseph pointed back to the general crowd, “I’ll handle the front.”

“Wai—”

Before Miguel could respond, a crash could be heard within the cafe.

“I told you that would happen!” An irate woman shouted, accompanied by the cries, shouts, and sniffles of a sobbing child.

“Where’s the broom and mop?” Joseph asked.

Miguel closed his eyes and pointed to a door. Joseph hurriedly walked over to where he was pointing and opened the door. He was greeted by a glistening, white toilet and the scent of lavender.

“Not that one.”

Joseph opened the other door and grabbed the cleaning supplies and went over to the spot of the accident. He swept the wet floor, trying to get the chunks of ceramic into the dust pan. The large pieces were easier to clean, but the smaller ones needed a few more sweeps, taking along with it puddles of the spilled liquid. Joseph took the mop and swished it left and right until everything was absorbed.

“Be careful next time, okay?” Joseph smiled at the sniffling child.

“You heard him,” The mother smiled at her son and patted him on the head, “Say you’re sorry.”

“Sorry.” The boy whispered.

Joseph chuckled, put the cleaning supplies back into the room, and went back to the counter. He attended to the needs of the customers–a spoon, a fork, a glass of water, an extra plate, containers for take-out, and even handing out their orders–while Miguel focuses on cooking. He thanked the customer for visiting his friend’s cafe, exuding confidence and happiness with each word.

“Thank you! Come again!” Joseph waved from the door, his eyes bright and his smile wide. He went back inside to the familiar, calm atmosphere of the cafe, bolstered by the orange rays of the sun peeking through the large glass window. Miguel placed a cup of cappuccino and a clubhouse sandwich onto the side of the bar table where Joseph sulked a few hours ago.

“I didn’t order this.” Joseph said, looking at the sandwich.

“It’s my way of saying thanks.”

“Well,” Joseph went back to his previous seat and grabbed his bag. “If you say so.”

“You mean you just left your bag there?”

“Don’t worry, there’s nothing in there.” Joseph said, tapping his right and back pocket. He sat down where the feast before him was prepared. He has not eaten lunch, but he thought it would be better to keep that to himself.

“Man,” Miguel took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his forehead, “Thanks for helping out back there.” Miguel kept sweeping his hair back with the loose fringes falling back down to no avail. “It’s usually not busy around this time but I guess everyone was just on leave.”

“No problem.” Joseph took a swig of the cappuccino and placed the cup back on the saucer. He took a few seconds to savor the flavor and heat coating his stomach. “In fact, working with you was a lot of fu—”

He stood up and slammed his palms down the table, rattling his cup and plate.

“What’s wrong?” Miguel reeled back at the outburst of the young man.

Joseph maintained eye contact with the large man. “Let me work here.”

“...Huh?”