He came in as he always did - Tuesday night, 6 o'clock. He always ordered a Decaf Espresso and an Earl Grey. I already had the tea seeping - he had been a regular since I started at the small Cafe, about two months ago. I had the order rung in before he reached the till. He had the exact amount of change. He smiled at me as I explained - though it had been said so many times, I didn't really have to anymore - that it was going to be a moment and I could bring it out when it was ready. He made his way to his usual seat, sat down and gazed out the window. I sighed and went about preparing the Coffee, allowing the tea to seep for a few more minutes. He always ordered it strong. Occasionally I peeked up to glance at him - it was always rather dead Tuesday night - but he was always gazing out the window. Something about him was somehow interesting to me. He showed up every Tuesday without fail. 6 o'clock on the dot. He would stare out the window, sipping at the coffee until the tea went cold. Then he would quickly leave the restaurant, the cold cup of tea untouched at the table. No one else had ever joined him - an he spoke to no one. With the exception of two weeks ago. Two blonde men had entered the cafe, eyes scanning the room and instantly finding the man. They made their way over. The shorter man looked annoyed, the slightly taller one looked upset. The man didn't look up, not even when the upset man slid into the seat next to him. I was running out an order when I heard their whispers. "Papa... Please..." The second man begged in French, placing a hand on his shoulder. The man didn't reply, only stared at the tea, his eyes pained. "You git. You act like it isn't affecting us either-" The annoyed man muttered. He was silenced by a glare. "Matthieu, Arthur, just go," The man muttered. I didn't hear the rest of the conversation. It was cut of as I hurried back to take another order. Matthieu and Arthur left sometime later, the younger looking on the verge of tears and the other looking pissed and upset. I poured the tea into the mug, and picked up the coffee. I made my way over and placed the drinks in front of him. "Here you go..." He looked up at me and gave a small smile. "Merci." I found my curiosity overpowering at that moment. "Waiting for someone?" He looked up, before nodding. "He isn't coming though." Why would he wait for someone who isn't going to show up? I chewed my lip, hesitant but spoke again. I probably shouldn't have. "Why not?" His face fell, and his eyes flickered to his coffee. "He left me. Us." "O-oh..." I muttered. I couldn't help the words as they spilled from my mouth, and I internally cursed myself. "If he'a gone, why keep waiting for him?" The man was silent, his face crumpling finally. I don't know why I stood there. But then he answered, his voice coming out in a whisper as he sipped at the last of his coffee. "I'm not waiting /for/ him. I'm waiting to join him." The man stood, smiled at me, though his eyes were pained, and left the restaurant. It only dawned on me what he meant as I was putting the mugs through the dishwasher minutes after he left. He didn't come back the next Tuesday, or the Tuesday after that. I never saw him again.
