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Description
Jemma's is heaven. Well, as close to heaven as any small town cafe can get. It's nearly empty this morning. Just me and a lone businessman sitting over in the corner. Black coffee and the last section of today's paper, definitely one of those, drive two hours to work so everyone else can take care of you, kind of guys.
     "Morning Jemma," I muttered to the old woman behind the counter.
     "Morning dear. The usual?"
     "Please." Jemma is a sweet old woman in her late sixties, sometimes it's hard to believe she's still going.
     "Here you go Lexa dear, tall vanilla chai."
     "Thanks Jemma. See you tomorrow."
     "Bye sweetie."
     Everyone's grandma aren't you Jemma. I walked out of the cafe and started back towards my undersized, overstuffed apartment. I hope he's gone by now. I really don't feel like being a jerk this morning.

     To my intense horror, the smell of eggs was drifting from my apartment. God. Why do I always pick the obsessive type? It took nearly five minutes and an intense mental confrontation before I could push open my door. Here goes.
     "Lexa!"
     "Ben? Thank god."

Description
Jemma's is heaven. Well, as close to heaven as any small town cafe can get. It's nearly empty this morning. Just me and a lone businessman sitting over in the corner. Black coffee and the last section of today's paper, definitely one of those, drive two hours to work so everyone else can take care of you, kind of guys.
     "Morning Jemma," I muttered to the old woman behind the counter.
     "Morning dear. The usual?"
     "Please." Jemma is a sweet old woman in her late sixties, sometimes it's hard to believe she's still going.
     "Here you go Lexa dear, tall vanilla chai."
     "Thanks Jemma. See you tomorrow."
     "Bye sweetie."
     Everyone's grandma aren't you Jemma. I walked out of the cafe and started back towards my undersized, overstuffed apartment. I hope he's gone by now. I really don't feel like being a jerk this morning.

     To my intense horror, the smell of eggs was drifting from my apartment. God. Why do I always pick the obsessive type? It took nearly five minutes and an intense mental confrontation before I could push open my door. Here goes.
     "Lexa!"
     "Ben? Thank god."