I raise my hand to get the attention of the waitress. “I’ll have a decaf chamomile.” She smiles and nods.

“Decaf? What’s the point of ordering a tea this early and getting decaf?”

I look down the countertop at the woman who just addressed me. Hmm. 5’7″, at least 150, flush face. Apparently the flushness means she’s short of breath. Makes sense.

Round glasses, full rimmed. I don’t spot a nosepiece. Why is she wearing round glasses when her face is so round? Maybe she wants to believe she’s not overweight. I spot her keys and wallet, both hung on one of those rings that girls have nowadays. Kate Spade, quite an expensive brand. Cappuccino of some kind. I’m not familiar with them. Daddy’s girl.

“I’ve never been a caffeine guy. I like to think it means I’m disciplined.” I also think coffee is way overpriced. She could use less of Dad’s money on coffee to get a gym membership.

She scowled and glanced at her drink.

“Alright, so what do you do?” she asked. Oh boy, here we go.

“I don’t talk to people who don’t prioritize health.” I place a couple bills on the counter and leave.

---

“I’ll have a decaf chamomile.”

“Still getting decaf, huh.”

I look over the countertop at the woman who just addressed me. I remember her. It’s been a few months since our first encounter, even though I show up most days. Guess she wanted to prove something to me. She’s skinnier. Lost the glasses and the flush. A bit tanner, but it’s hard to tell with girls spraying on fake ones.

I turn back towards my place on the counter. “Still getting decaf.”

“You should know that what you said to me last time was rude, last time.”

“Rude or constructive?” She pauses. Typical.

“So you gonna tell me what you do? Or am I still too fat?”

“I’m an artist of sorts. I specialize in murder scenes.”

“Ooh, I’ve been watching serial killer documentaries!” Of course you have. Time to turn on the charm.

“My art is a very similar to what you see in those. Very.”