Recognizing the customer as a classmate’s father, I welcome him more amicably than I otherwise might. After I bring him coffee, I check the creamer in the small metal pitcher, ensure the napkin dispenser is full, shake the sugar in the glass canister loose, and turn to walk away. He grabs my wrist, pulling it toward him. With his other hand he stirs, heating the spoon before placing it, curved side down, on the back of my captive hand. When I no longer feel the pain (or maybe just get used to it), he lets go, finally smiling in return.
Audrey Alt is a copy editor by day and a writer at night, when her husband and three dogs are asleep. She no longer waitresses.