"What do you want?" Kyle asked his son as he looked at the rows of colorful donuts. His son had always been a little different, a little slower in his decisions. Kyle glanced over at you the sweet barista who'd been taking his order for the past 181 days (he had counted).
"Donut flavor is important. Don't rush perfection." You say as you smile at him, it's as bright as the different colored glazes. The shop is empty anyways, it always is on Sunday mornings.
"D-d-dad-" the word drags out and Kyle waches his son's face screw up in concentration. "Is ch-ch-chocolate, okay?"
"Chocolate is fine. Do you want me to order or do you?" Kyle asked giving him the opportunity to order on his own. Remembering his ex wife's harsh words. 'You can't always hold his hand.'
His son confidently stepped back up to you, it's clear that Kyle's trust in you has bled into his son. His little fingers grip the counter as he thinks of the sentence.
"C-c-can we have t-two chocolate d-d-donuts?" His son beamed when he didn't stutter as much. You smile hitting the little ipad in front of you totalling their order.
"Chocolate donuts are an excellent choice." You say confidently. Kyle passes the card to his son who presses it into your palm with a proud smile.
"Do y-you like Van Gogh too?" His son asked, of course he would ask her about classical art. He had a two track mind books and art, the opposite of Kyle. "C-could you s-s-sit with us?" Kyle's cheeks almost turn pink.
"She has to work buddy." Kyle chided, but you just tsk at him
"Of course I can come sit with you." You smile handing his son the donuts and his coffee too him. He winked over at his son, better wing man than any of the 141.
Another One
And Another
And Another
And Another
