Impatient was one of many words to describe the early-bird librarian, decked in clothing so professional that she looked like a lawyer was another. The cafe was dim at this time in the morning, albeit busy enough for a town of working people. So busy that it was taking ten minutes to get her coffee, and apparently longer for the coroner to walk through the door. She had heard that Wednesday’s were the days that he treated himself to coffee. And after the news about a murder, who better to ask than the man who had to be in charge of the corpse? It felt like years till the waitress underwent her call for attention, a wave sent her way. The coffee didn’t matter as much in the end. “Can you tell me what kind of coffee Roman White likes?” She asked, prepared for the waitress’s confused answer as well as questioning nature. The “why do you need to know” satisfied Charity’s projection and as always, she had an answer laid out as though it was a floor-plan for some massive building of hers. A dry smile burned into her face, slipping from view with each word she’d continued. “Anything for a story, sweetie. Now could I get an order of that and finally get that black coffee I asked for ten minutes ago? Please? Thank you.”
@ben-raleigh
