August had, to put it lightly, a unique way with customers. He looked at them straight ahead, intimidating most of the young and older crowds.

   "That young man at the counter was glaring at me," one of two older women cowered at a corner and commented as I took their order.

   "He just needs to learn to smile," I responded.

   "Best you teach him, Vera," another chimed.

   And this was the case whenever the old women came in. The older men on the other hand refused to give their orders to August for a completely different reason.

   They were afraid he'd sell up.

   I'm pretty sure he's a better seller than I was. I never really ask for orders.

   I noticed, after working with August, how attentive he was in the moment. For him, it seemed like things happened in the now and the now is the only thing that exists.

   Not that I'm against such a mentality, but I did wonder if he was enjoying working at the cafe.

   "Some of Agatha Christie's work finally arrived. I've been trying to get copies of a certain cover." I watched as August pretended to care. "They're in pretty good condition. She's well-known for her detective novels. Ever heard of Miss Marple? Those are the ones that came in."

   "Hercule Poirot, Orient Express– that writer, right?"

   I nodded happily.

   "I remember you talked about it before."

   I enjoyed talking books with him even though he wasn’t an avid reader. The way he listens well and how great of a memory he had made it easy to speak about anything.

   I toured him once around the library, and he could recite back the aisles without stuttering. Maybe he could even recite all the books in the order they're in if I asked.

   "How good is your memory?"

   He flinched as if I'd asked something taboo.

   "Pretty good."

   "Like how good?"

   He seemed to really hesitate on the question. I noticed him tap both index fingers on the counter to the beat of the music softly playing in the background.

   "You play?" I changed the subject.

   He looked down at his fingers where my attention had diverted. He didn't answer that either. I guess that was taboo too.

   "Well, you can take your break now. I don't think we'll be getting any more guests before closing."

   Watching him retreat without another word told me everything I needed to know. It made me more curious and really, in his point of view, nosey.

   A poor working student without baggage was something I'd never encountered in my personal life though to say that he's a part of my personal life is a stretch. He's only a part-timer.

   Still, I was curious about his reasons for applying at the cafe.