He hadn’t felt this giddy in a long time. Not since the chat that started it all. And somewhere between the phone's blinking dots and his blinking eyes, he realized he didn’t want this conversation to end. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.
Birdy:
I have to go. It's family dinner at Chow Town.
Paul:
I've heard of that restaurant. Any good?
Birdy:
Best Asian fusion in the state.
Paul:
Maybe you'll take me sometime.
Three dots.Nothing.
Paul:
I am new in town. Still trying to get my lay of the land.
Three dots.Nothing. And then.
Birdy:
Good night Mr. Winters.
Paul:
Sweet dreams, Ms. Chou.
Three dots.
Nothing.
And still nothing when he checked the phone again in the morning. Paul wanted to press his luck. He wanted to text her good morning. But he figured he'd be seeing her soon.
Later that morning, when he returned to the coffee shop, he saw another person he was hoping to run into.
The bell above the café door gave a cheerful jingle as Paul stepped inside. He stomped his boots by the welcome mat. It was early—still that gray-blue kind of morning where the sky hadn’t decided if it wanted to brighten up or stay sullen all day. Paul had been up since dawn, restless.
He stepped up to the counter, rubbing his hands together while the barista poured a black, strong, no frills coffee—and that’s when he saw him.
The kid.
Hunched over at a corner table, hoodie up, stirring something that looked too fancy to be his. The cup was untouched. His foot bounced under the table. Paul’s instincts kicked in like muscle memory. He took his coffee and walked over.
“Mind if I sit?”
The kid didn’t look up. Just shrugged. Paul slid into the seat across from him. They sat in silence for a moment, just the hiss of the milk steamer behind them.
“I’m not here to get you in trouble,” Paul said finally. “I’m here to give you a chance.”
The kid’s eyes flicked up. He was young. Too young to carry this much weight on his shoulders.
“You don’t have to say anything. Just come with me. See the baby. That’s it. No paperwork. No pressure.”
