I’m writing you because you always come into the store and sit at the same table with the same drink and take the same book off the shelf to read every Friday night. I’m stuck with closing Friday nights and I usually have to put your book back on the shelf when you leave. I’m not sure if you ever notice me back behind the coffee counter. I’ve got the blonde hair and I usually wear a grey beanie. You always order two shots of espresso and leave one on the table in front of you while you drink the other. No one really seems to notice you in the store that much, but I want you to know that I notice you and you seem sad. Sometimes I think that maybe your wife died or maybe it was your sister. I used to go to the bookstore with my brother when we were in high school to read magazines and drink coffee after school. He ended up enlisting in the Army when he turned eighteen and I went to college a year later. He came back, but he didn’t come back too in a sense sometimes. It’s hard to describe. I’m not very good at talking to people, maybe it’s why I wrote you this letter and stuck it in your book. I’ve noticed you dog ear pages and maybe you have read it more than once based on how worn the book is getting.
Anyway, if you need to talk to someone we close at 9 and I’m usually out by 9:30 from the coffee bar. You smiled once when I told you a joke and I think you should do it more. You’ve got a nice smile.
I hope this finds you well,