Anne

I looked down and saw my groceries strewn around the sidewalk. A carton of eggs was wide open and that the majority, if not all, of them were leaking down towards the gutter.

"Damn it." I repeated, bending over to see what could be salvaged. Joining the stream of egg yolks was a half gallon of milk, whose carton had a large rip in the side.

How the hell does that happen?

"I'm so sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going and these streets are usually empty this time of day…" The stranger explained. He was reaching for his pocket. "Here, let me pay for whatever's running down the street right now."

I really didn't have enough money to replace what had been ruined, but it's not this guy's fault. "No, no. I'm at fault here too. I shouldn't have carried it in front of my face like that. I'm clumsy enough as it is…"

"I'm usually not this scatterbrained, I swear." He gesticulated madly for emphasis.

I shook my head and hoisted my purse back up on my shoulder. "No, today just isn't my day. Bad luck, poor karma, whatever you want to call it." I tried to gather the remaining items out of the slush before the packaging got soggy. "I'm sorry about your coffee. I guess we're even?"

"Are you sure there isn't anything I can do?" He called after me. I was surprised by his persistence. He genuinely felt bad and wanted to make amends for such a small, insignificant accident. The poor guy even looked apologetic, which said a lot.

"I need a fucking cup of coffee." I couldn't help but smile in spite of the situation.

"Do you want to go to the Life?"

"The Life…?" I asked. It sounded like some pseudo-hippie health food store. Definitely not my thing.

"The Life Café, you know? Sure, it's a hole in the wall but it's relatively nice." He explained.

So over one cup of coffee (tea for him) we exchanged stories of this crazy city we call home.

"I'm Mark, Mark Cohen, by the way." He said, extending his hand over the table that was etched with multiple names.

"Anne Hayes."

"Anne Hayes the Certified Public Accountant, he laughed, adding another sugar into the ceramic cup. "Is your life as interesting as you're making it out to be?"

I joined him in his laughter. "Not even a fraction. But it pays the bills and keeps my father off my back."

"Don't I know how that is. My mom wanted me to be a doctor and ever since I told my parents that I wanted to be a filmmaker all I get are worried phone calls asking whether or not I need money…" He paused "And if I've found a good Jewish girl to marry and take back to Scarsdale."

Again, we shared a laugh over our sad lives. This was New York and yet, there were still recluse losers like him and I who didn't frequent the clubs and bars. What are the odds?

"My dad was showing me math flashcards when I was a toddler. You can't get geekier than that…" I shrugged.

Mark nodded. "Yeah, you pretty much have me beat. Even the worst of my horror stories can't match up to that."

I checked my watch. "9:24?" I just spent 3 hours in a dingy restaurant with a stranger who ruined my groceries. I had obviously lost track of time, and among other things my mind.

"Is it that early? Man, I was expecting it to be a lot later." Mark said. "Maybe my watch is off."

As I rummaged through my bag to find some cash, he held his wrist up to his ear.

"Oh, that's why. My battery is dead." He noticed me pulling a few dollars out of my wallet. "You don't expect me to allow you to foot the bill, do you?"

I shook my head. "It's only fair. I drank the coffee."

"A coffee that's $1.25 and probably tasted like dirt." He pulled a wad of crinkled bills and tossed them on the table. "It's not like I can't afford it."

"It's not right though," I protested "On first dates… I mean… er, you split the check."

"Don't insult my masculinity, okay? It's fragile enough as it is." Mark laughed and pulled his jacket on. "Again, I'm sorry about your groceries."

"Accidents happen, people have bad days. It's not your fault." I put on my own coat and headed towards the door.

"Wait," Mark called. "Can I… uh, get your number?" He looked at his feet and I could see the blush rising in his cheeks.

My god, he's absolutely adorable. But I bet that's the last thing he'd want to be described as by a woman.

"Yes, of course!" I grabbed a napkin off the table and hastily scribbled my name on it. "Just so you know, I screen my calls like a madwoman. So if I don't pick up right away, don't think I hate your or anything like that. Thanks for the coffee, Mark."

He just nodded and held the door open for me, his face a fantastic shade of red.

Many thanks to those who reviewed. I really was surprised to see that people were actually reading (let alone LIKING) this story. I'll update as frequently as I can, though I can't promise daily. I have whole future chapters written already but we won't get to that for quite a while. Be prepared for some twists and an ending that even I didn't think would come. Seriously, it's like my fingers had a mind of their own yesterday when I was working on it. Thanks again for the sweet reviews lost my rent, Bargaining, H.J. Glory, and Harper's Pixie.

-Ella