Slide 2: Warmth
Will Zimmerman did not make good coffee. He knew that. He was, in fact, reminded of it every morning by Adele Rogers, who-
The door jingled open and he smiled slightly at the flats of coffee beans, wiping his hands on his apron and heading out front just as-
"Will!" And there she was, a cheerful constant grinning at him. Out of habit, he glanced at the clock. 9:55, on the dot. Punctual, as always.
"Good morning, Adele. The usual?" Tall vanilla latte with a shot of caramel (pronounced care-a-mel, not car-mall). Even as he said it, he was already pulling out a cup, marking down the order in shorthand out of pure habit.
"Of course." She slipped her bag off, leaving it on one of the tables, and closed her eyes slightly, listening to the music filtering over the clanking and sizzling sounds of the machines as Will went through the familiar motions. One hand played out the feel of the music on the counter, the tapping lost in the din of sound.
Even at twenty-three, she barely looked older than perhaps the oldest junior student in the chemistry lab she taught. As if to make up for it, she dressed in a slightly more metropolitan than college way, more dresses and blouses than t-shirts in her wardrobe, ballet flats more often than tennis shoes. He had seen her with her students occasionally, when one of them would stumble into the store in a sleepy daze. She was cheerful, informal, welcoming, strange for a science professor. They called her Ms. Rogers, a comfortable mix between respect and affection.
She hadn't bothered to go on and get her doctorate, and she had never given him any reason. He didn't pry. He just made her coffee. "Here you go."
She smiled jovially, breaking out of her music-induced thought, and took the cup from him. An experimental sip and she hummed thoughtfully. "Not bad. The coffee's a bit too harsh, not enough vanilla tempering it, and the caramel is off because of it. Needs more milk and a bit more foam. You're getting there, though."
"Will I ever make your coffee exactly the way you like it?" He sighed at her, only half joking.
She smirked. "Sometimes I wonder." She swung her bag onto one shoulder, turning towards the door and raising a hand in parting. "With practice, though, you will prevail!" She punched the air, her laughter and his following her out the door into the fall morning.