“Would you look at that,” I say. I wasn’t expecting this today. “Is that a fish?” Frank raises an eyebrow and keeps sipping his latte.
Trumpets. Faint “splats” from the fish falling outside. Geez, this is really going to screw up the day. Week. Month. Maybe the year. I was expecting more fire. Oh, there it is. “Is that smell brimstone? I’ve always wondered about that.”
“I think the sewer pipes burst,” Frank says.
I stand up. Frank looks over, “Where you going?”
“Get me some, too?”
“You got a latte. Mine’s bottomless cup.”
“What?” he says. The heavenly choir and screaming from outside are getting louder. I point to the menu item above the shivering barista’s head. “Bottomless cup,” I mime. “She probably won’t care,” he says, volume raised. I look over at the shaking woman. No, the floor was shaking. I shrug. Probably not, and swipe his mug to fill it from the cracked self-serve coffee pot.
“Damn,” I say. “What?” Frank’s mouth forms the word. I walk back to our window seat, the glass bowing a little from the heat outside. “The coffee. It’s red.” I sigh. “Well, red-ish.”
“Damn,” Frank says. “I thought that only happened to water.”
“Coffee has water.”
“Right. Doesn’t seem fair, though.”
I swipe at a bead of sweat that wobbles at the end of my nose. “Yeah. Ready, then?”
Frank stands up and puts his jacket over his head. “Yeah.”
We leave 20%. The door jingles behind us.