The Big Apple had plenty of promises to offer for those willing to believe.

Of life.

Of love.

Of becoming somebody—whatever their interpretation of one is.

A city at the heart of the world, the embodiment of the American Dream.

Cross the line, go the distance, and make a new life, no matter how small or grand the aspirations. The difference between somebody and nobody is one step into those streets of gold.

When her purpose was served, she had become a nobody. But she'll be damned if she didn't take that step.

"...So that's why you're here?"

That man hardly ever changed. Not even the war seemed to put a dent in him. He still put others first, especially those who had served under him. And for that, she could at least make the drinks on the house this time.

Still, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was here, in the city, just to check up on someone who did little.

Good thing he came at a slow hour—she could have a longer talk with him, and not just because she wanted to find out if she was right.

"Well, gotta do something, right? Now that we all have gone our separate ways, what else can we do? I heard everyone is doing well themselves," Edinburgh smiled as she put the steaming cup down with ease. Everything about the brew in it was precisely as he preferred, down to the finest details, something she remembered so well she could probably make it with her eyes closed— though considering her penchant for little mishaps, she hadn't tried.

A little sugar, a little milk, and a little bit of spice—the perfect balance, a mother's recipe, and an honor for her to share.

"You're right. Nice cozy place you got here. You're running it well. And your coffee's as good as ever, Edinburgh."

"I know right?" Edinburgh laughed. "it's not super famous, but not that small either. I'm not making six figures a year, but it's not like I'm living off scraps, either. Just enough for things...and saving up."

"So you could finally do something you love without the weight of being...you know. I'm happy for you."

"And it's also repaying a favor. The old owner gave me a job, taught me a lot, and then, when she retired, asked if I wanted to continue the shop. It's pretty difficult running things solo at first, but I've gotten used to it. Probably need to find a helper soon, though. Business is growing, after all."

Only when she finished did Edinburgh realize that the Commander was no longer drinking and was smiling at her.

"You've changed a lot, haven't you?"

"Not really. Sometimes, I still make clumsy mistakes, but thankfully, not ones that would cost me a customer or, worse, burn this building down or get me sued. So far, anyway."

"And Belfast told me she's no longer worried about if you're taking care of yourself—and I think, that's not just in the sense of eating well or getting enough sleep. I think she's right. You have something you love to do, and you're doing well. You even helped a lot of people."

She could only bring the tray to her face, hiding the grin, the blush.

"That girl, how come she never told me this in her letters? But, well...it's just a coffee shop. Nothing fancy."

"Still, you're somebody. To them, at least."

She followed the gaze into the wall, where patrons had written their messages, scribbled in small notes stuck on the corkboard. It was something she put up just in case someone wanted to leave feedback, but it had become much more than that.

A tapestry of gratitude for a perfect cup, or an ear for their troubles, or for a smile. A poet coming all the way from Greenwich Village left an ode. A kid and his father left a crayon drawing. A woman struggling with her divorce left a prayer. A visitor from New England promised to spread the word and return. A student trying to get into Columbia thanked her for the caffeine and a push of her own. A fellow veteran and his wife wrote that their son would love the place when he returned home from duty. A banker said he was glad to be there instead of Wall Street. A lovelorn young man left his number and asked her out for a date. An old lady left suggestions for new blends and a recipe for a cookie, which now had become part of the menu. A homeless person appreciated the place to rest his feet. Another barista told her that she should've been more well-known. A couple left a wedding invitation.

And so on, and so on. There were others like them, and all were diverse—but the meaning was all the same.

"And thank you for the coffee. It's nice to see that it's good as always. Are you sure I don't have to pay for it?"

"Oh, yes. No problem," Edinburgh took the newly empty cup. It was just like him to ask.

"Oh, but I know the rules, Edinburgh. Only the first one's free, right? So give me another, and I'll pay for it."

"Geez, don't talk like you're speaking to a drug pusher."

"Well, your coffee's the best, and I think I might be addicted to it."

The blush returned, the heat warmer, and the smile, wider.

"Gimme a sec."

It was just like him to say that. Not that she minded. In a way, that was how he could be selfish, and she'd like it if he could be selfish for once.

He laughed as he sipped the concoction, looking just as satisfied as before, and Edinburgh almost forgot what she'd wanted to find out.

"So, I believe it's my turn to ask what you are doing here. Surely not just to see the little ol' me in this part of Flatbush, innit?"

She'd figured he wasn't on military business either, seeing that he wasn't wearing his uniform. The suit fit him, however.

He took another sip, deliberate like a wine connoisseur as if wanting the flavor to linger.

"This is a nice coffee. And that's good since I need all the caffeine I can get for the rest of the day. It'll be a busy one, after all."

"That didn't answer my question," Edinburgh smirked. "What's gotten to you? You're never roundabout, you know."

"True. Well, the story is, I need to take care of a lot of things. Settling down isn't easy, you know."

"Settl—are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Meet the new guy in town, Edinburgh."

The tray clattered against the floor. Good thing nobody else was around.

"You...are moving here? Really? You finally found someone, Commander?"

"Yes, I'm staying here, and no, there's no one."

"Shocking."

"Me staying here, or me not getting married?"

"Both."

The shared laugh felt like the good old days, which was only a few years ago, but it felt like it had been decades or forever.

"Well, long story short, I got a job here now, with the UN, thanks to a friend. Anyway, that's the gist of it."

"Wow, that's pretty far from here. And...uh, this is a permanent stay?"

His eyes wandered the place, all while smiling.

"Already got myself a nice place, so definitely. A bit too big for one person, though."

"Uh-huh," she nodded, ignoring the implication that her mind must've made up. "But it's nice having a friendly face around."

"I know. That's why when Belfast suggested I visit you when I got here, I didn't hesitate. And I'm glad I did."

She could feel it, the relief. After all, he had never made it a secret that he was always worried about her. Probably because she used to be so clumsy, so easily nervous. Now that he's here, and she probably already did, she could show him that it was no longer needed.

"And I'm glad you're doing fine yourself, with a new job and all, Commander. Drop by whenever you feel like getting coffee or just having a friendly chat. After all, like my old boss always says, the doors are always open for those who need them. Maybe you'll find someone special, too. Who knows."

"Right, someone special," he chuckled and downed the rest of his drink, which undoubtedly had become lukewarm from the neglect. "Anyway, I've got to go. Here's the money for the drink. Keep the change, will you?"

He placed a fifty-dollar bill on the table as she collected the cup, something enough for eight more servings. Her eyes went wide, then narrowed into a squint.

"...Don't you think that's too much, Commander? A cup's just six bucks, you know?"

"Eh, consider the rest a tip. You deserve it," he shrugged and stood. Edinburgh reached for the money tentatively, and when it eventually found its way to her hand, she felt like cradling the bill.

"Oh, and Edinburgh?"

He was halfway to the door when he paused. When he turned around, she realized that something about him had changed.

"You can just call me by name now that I'm a civilian."

"Only if you call me Edi, Mr. Davis. All of my customers call me that."

"Deal. See you, Edi."

With a final tip of his hat, he left just as another patron—the first in hours—came in, followed by another and another.

She pocketed the bill and set to work. She still had a long day ahead.

Such was her routine.

But that routine might become a little more interesting from now on.

Or, perhaps, a lot more.


Once upon a time, there was a dance.

"A party during wartime? Who came up with this idea?"

Once upon a time, a hand was offered.

"The higher-ups did. Well, calm before another storm, I suppose—for the sake of stronger camaraderie and giving us a break and all that. That said, may I have this dance?"

"M-Me? Me? We-well, I don't know. I might trip and embarrass you and—"

"And the world will keep spinning anyway."

"Commander...a-are you sure?"

"Well...you're my secretary. It's kind of expected. I'm not forcing you or anything, though. I'll understand if you'd rather not. But it doesn't hurt to try things if you ask me. Of course, you're free to choose."

"I-If you say so. Well...sure."

Once upon a time, a night became brighter and happier.

Nothing ever came from that, but she wasn't expecting anything.

A small moment, a simple story that ended as soon as the song did.

But it wasn't something she would ever forget.

And he certainly didn't.

"Oh, this song..." He mumbled to himself as he browsed what the jukebox had to offer. It was near closing time, and he was the only one left. He was probably taking his time, leaving a mostly eaten bagel and a cup full of leftover dregs on the table. He had been haggard when he arrived, but now, even with his shirt in disarray and tie loose, he was smiling like a lottery winner—which was the whole point of the place, so it was even more worth seeing.

He put a quarter in and turned as the whirs and clicks sounded, then a familiar piano riff—spilling into the air and her ears and her very soul.

"...Hee, the song we danced to."

"Oh, you remembered," he said, but it felt more like a casual observation than a surprise.

"It...was...nice. 'Just a small-town girl, living in a lonely world...'" she sang along, voice soft.

"'She took the midnight train going anywhere...'" He followed, voice hoarse. "Hey, do you mind?"

Once again, a hand was offered.

Once again, she took it.

Once again, they pretended they knew the moves.

Spin, twirl, stumble, bump, laugh.

Reliving, rewinding, relishing.

Still clumsy, still the same two left feet, still not caring in the end.

Still the same small world.

Still the same happiness.

With one last turn, the song ended, and he wobbled to the nearest chair and leaned on the table. A titter turned to a chuckle, then made way for an intoxicated laugh. She was no better, eventually finding her way to the seat across him, her head still light and airy.

"Thank you, Edi."

"F-for what?"

"For the dance. It was selfish of me to ask that when you're supposed to close up and all, but you said yes. That meant a lot."

"No, no. I'm...I'm glad I did."

It certainly wasn't mere obligation to a superior, or even a customer, if she were to be honest.

"Ah...that's a relief. Well then, I'll take my leave. Take care, Edi."

With another tip of the hat, he left, and she watched as he disappeared into the corner with the streetlight, catching a glimpse of a wave and likely a smile.

She returned the favor and walked back to the shop. The dance and the memory of it lingered.

Nothing came from that, but she still wasn't expecting anything.

But it was another thing she would never forget.


"And they lived happily ever after. The end."

The woman closed the book to the delight of the little girl on the chair.

She was a good storyteller, and Edinburgh couldn't help but listen whenever she wasn't busy.

"One more! One more, mommy!"

"No, no. You haven't touched your cheesecake yet, honey. I thought you loved Miss Edi's cake."

"Yes, but I love stories, too!"

"At home, alright? It's getting late."

"Aww..." the girl reluctantly took the fork but brightened up after just a bite. Edinburgh could only laugh. It was always satisfying to see the young ones enjoying her baked treats.

"Mmmm! So good, Miss Edi!"

The squeal, the joy—once of her younger peers, now of her little regulars— and they were music all the same.

"Hey, hey, Miss Edi, do you wanna meet a prince, too? Then get married and live happily ever after?"

"Honey, I'm already happy just being here. Seeing happy faces like yours is enough."

"Really? I want to marry one, though!"

"Haha, when you do, I'll make sure to bake the biggest cake in the world, just for you and your prince."

"Really? Yayyyy!"

The girl went back to digging into the cake, her mother watching, rather amused.

"But you know, Edi, you should consider seeing someone. Maybe that guy you were talking with the other day? You two seemed close, and he's pretty good-looking, even if on the older side. Is there something you're not telling me, hm?"

"O-oh...him? Just my old commanding officer from back then. And, well, he moved here, so we thought we'd catch up. Um, if anything, maybe it's you who should try going out with him. I can vouch for his character."

"And break your heart? Oh, no, no, no. After all, I'm pretty well-off, and raising a kid on my own is less a hassle than I thought. And besides, military guys are not my type, retired or otherwise. They're either too rigid, or too much too handle."

"He's not like—"

"See, with how quick you defended him, there has to be something, right?"

"It's just...I respected him a lot and still do. But, well, I don't know if I can make anyone happy...that way, I mean."

Her friend simply laughed and turned to her daughter, who was blissfully chowing down, making short work of the remaining cake.

"All done? Alright, honey, say goodbye to Miss Edi. We're going home."

"Okay! See you, Miss Edi. That was a reeeeeallly good cake. Thank you!"

"No problem. Don't forget to brush your teeth before bed, okay?"

"Mmmhmmm!"

Her mother paid the bill, plus a bit more.

"Always nice talking to you, Edi. Next time, I'll bring along that new hire at my company. She asked me if I knew any good coffee in Brooklyn, and yours is the first thing that came to mind."

"Sure, I'd appreciate that. And it's nice talking to you too—and little Ashley here."

"Heehee, thank you, Miss Edi!"

"And...Edi?"

"Hmmm?"

Her friend was looking at the corkboard. She followed with her eyes.

"You already made a lot of people happy, you know? You deserve to be happy, too."

She waved them off as the bell signaled their exit, leaving the place quiet, which was fine since she was about to close up.

So she went to the door, flipped the sign, and locked it.

She'd thought of wiping the counter and the tables before balancing the accounts and sorting the inventory, followed by the much-deserved rest.

But for whatever reason, she went to the corkboard instead. The date request was still there, funnily enough, though she had long declined politely. The person pinning it there was still a regular, and the last time he came, he was with someone.

There were a few new ones, too—including one a tad longer than the others. The handwritten words were neat and precise as if they were typed down and calming to look at in all their orderly glory. The note, the whole of it, was comfortably familiar. He must've put it up on his last visit a couple of days ago. They didn't talk much at that time since she was busy and he was in a hurry.

'Hey, I just want to say thank you again for the coffee and our little chats...and most importantly, our little dance back then. And your suggestion for a good furniture store in Manhattan was as helpful as it was unexpected. My new couch is the best thing ever—too big, though—and I love it.

And thanks for the recipes that you shared, even if you said it's still a hundred years too early for me to surpass you. I tried making the muffins, and at least they were edible instead of being a total disaster. But I guess I still prefer yours better.

And I'm glad that you get along well with your regulars, and I can see why. I would love to be part of it.

Things will be busier from now on, but I will always drop by whenever I can. So, see you again.

P.S. Small world, huh?'

The note was unsigned as if the writer was confident enough that she would know who'd written it.

"You silly man," she whispered as her thumb traced the paper. It's not a cheap one torn from a common notepad. No, it was quality stationery for important correspondence, thick and smooth and elegant. In a way, she thought it was thoughtful of him to write on it.

A small gesture—to many, almost meaningless.

Yet it spoke volumes about his character.

A smile tugged her lips as she reread the words; each time felt like the first.

"You're welcome here anytime. If you need someone to talk to, then I'm always here."

There were more things that he would want to say, she could feel it. Maybe not now or soon, but when the time comes, she'll have an ear ready.

He wasn't there to hear or know this, of course, but she was sincere about it all the same. If she were a little more childish, she would've believed the sentiment could reach him over there, across the borough.

She ran a finger across the writing for the last time until it settled on the last few words—

"So, see you," she said.

—then the postscript.

"Small world, indeed."

A silence and a deep breath, then a giggle.

She was content with her life now.

Always had been.

It was a good life.

But something more every now and then couldn't hurt.

This new addition to that little world of her own was very much welcome.

She pinned the message back with a head so light she could barely register the fatigue anymore.

Her heart and steps and movements grew just as light, eventually.

The lights soon dimmed, but not the smiles.

A promise was made—of another nice cup of coffee, brewed to perfection, of fresh treats and the warmest of welcome to start or end the day.

After everything and all the kindness and fairness, perhaps he would have been the most deserving of those tomorrow and in the days that followed.

Is that all?

Edinburgh shrugged the feeling off as she walked upstairs to her room.

She had no answer for now.

But she wasn't worried.

She could always find out the answers along the way.

After all, this is New York.

Anything could happen.

Anything, everything.

From nothing to something to something more.

Once upon a time, another story began.