“Can I get a coffee?” I smile, but heat crawls my spine. “All out.” “Out of coffee at seven-thirty in the morning?” “Unfortunately,” I say, stirring creamer into the cup in front of me. “Not even a little bit left for your favorite customer?” He smiles and it makes me pause, two matching dimple imprints to his otherwise chiseled cheeks, a little bit of light bleeding into his usually saddened brown eyes. I want to stand in that smile like a flower preening in the sun.
