My phone kept buzzing on the table. I ignored it. Time slipped, and I didn’t check it again.
During that time, the café’s noise faded. It was just the two of us and her stories.
At some point, I felt it.
That quiet sense of being watched.
I glanced up.
A man in a perfectly tailored suit sat at the counter, watching us silently, still and unreadable, as if he were studying something.
Our eyes met briefly. He didn’t look away. I looked back down.
Something about it unsettled me, but I didn’t stop feeding the elderly woman.
When her bowl was finally empty, she let out a soft breath. Her shoulders relaxed.
She reached for my hand and squeezed it.
“Thank you,” she said.
Her smile was soft and radiant. It changed her whole face and felt like sunlight after a storm.
I smiled back, got up, grabbed my phone, and made my way to my table.
That’s when the man by the counter stood.
I noticed him in my peripheral vision. He quietly walked past my table without a word.
As he passed, he placed something on my table beside me.
A folded napkin.
Then he kept walking and left.
I frowned, staring at it.
Then I remembered my phone. I grabbed it and turned it over.
Missed calls. Messages. Notifications were stacked on top of each other!
I checked the time.
I was 20 minutes late!
“Wait… no…” I muttered under my breath.
I stood abruptly, nearly knocking my chair back.
The interview! I stepped away from the table, already dialing Tom back.
It rang twice before he picked up.
“Helen,” Tom said, his voice tight. “We tried to reach you.”
“I know, I’m so sorry. I… something happened. I can explain. I’m on my way right now…”
I almost fainted!
“I just need 10 minutes,” I said. “Please. I can still make it!”
A pause.
Then, “We needed reliability for this role. I’m sorry.”
The line went dead.
I stood there, phone still in my hand.
Just like that, my biggest opportunity was gone.
