1 Chapter One

"Hey are you okay?" A young woman pulled aside an equally young man into a doorway of a small shop. She asked him this question, brushing her brown hair out of her face as she stared at him.

"Yeah. I'm fine." He nodded, responding to her, returning her stare. The woman nodded, smiling softly.

"Okay, if there's anything you need tell me okay? Let's get going." As she said this she turned around and seemed to regroup with a cluster of other young people. She talked to them and laughed at something.

"What a load of lip service." The man sighed to himself, looking down at his hands. He felt like going home, getting away from these people. He wasn't fine, but he wasn't going to admit it to someone who had no intent of caring. She was just paying lip service. That's what everyone did to him.

"Isha! Come on." The woman waved her hand, calling out to the lone guy. He nodded and began to join up with them. He had no idea as to why he was there in the first place. He knew two out of the five other people in the group, and that was the lady who pulled him aside and her boyfriend, and he didn't even know him well.

Isha stayed at the back of the group, his gaze traveling off into the nothingness of the night sky. It was a winter night, his breathe fully visible as soft snowfall landed on him. He followed the group as they walked down main street, adjusting his scarf a bit.

"Oh! Let's go in here!" One of them exclaimed. From what Isha could gather, she was a basic girl, liking to drink and party with almost anyone, or possibly thing if drunk enough.

The place she was suggesting was a dance club. Go figure.

"Oh hell yeah! Let's do it!" A rather well-built guy exclaimed back. He was basically the male version of the female, except a muscle head instead of a bimbo.

"Well, what do you think Hank?" The girl from before asked her boyfriend, looking up at him. From Isha's experiences with Hank, he was a decent guy. At first glance that is. He tended to try and be in control, especially over his girlfriend. So far there didn't appear to be any physical abuse, but the signs of mental were there.

"I don't see why we can't." Hank replied, showing off his teeth as he smiled.

"I mean.. I don't really like these types of places… but I guess there's more fun with friends right?" The last one nodded. She had reddish hair and a set of glasses. She was the "bookworm" of the group, even toting around a bookbag with her.

"That settles it then!" The muscle head cheered, charging in. And with that the rest followed.

"Yep. Lip service." Isha let out a sigh, watching his breath float into the night sky. They just walked in without waiting his opinion, or even waiting for him to go in.

It was about ten at night, if they were in a dance club it would more than likely take them until about two in the morning. At least.

"I think I'm gonna go home." Isha muttered under his breath. That's when he spotted a café open across the street, the sign boasting twenty-four-hour service. Looking through the window there was no one besides the workers in there, and they didn't number many.

Isha nodded to himself before checking both sides of the road and crossing. A bell jingled from the door as he escaped the cold outside.

"Ah! Welcome. How may I help you?" A man in his late fifties to early sixties asked from behind the bar, cleaning a mug with a rag. Or rather polishing it.

Isha sat at the café bar and tilted his head a bit.

"So should I assume you polish that mug all day?" He asked with a small smirk. The man light heartedly laughed at his comment.

"Only after about seven." He replied, smiling at Isha. "I haven't seen you before, new around here?" The man asked, trying to start a conversation as Isha looked at the menu.

"No. I just don't find much joy in going out like this." Isha replied, shaking his head. "I want a black coffee, whatever bean blend you suggest, as well as a sandwich and an order of soup. Also whatever you suggest." The nodded at Isha's order, writing something on the notepad.

"You might enjoy going out more if you found a different group to explore with." The man stated, putting the order form on a hook facing the kitchen. The back came to life with noise as the man got some beans from the shelves, taking a hand brew coffee pot.

"Ah, so you were watching huh?" Isha laughed a bit, watching the man brew. "Making it by hand? That's rather peculiar." He commented.

"Well, I am only standing here polishing the same cup." The man replied with a smile still on his face. He seemed to be enjoying this. "And of course I'm making it by hand. Everything in this café is fresh and made that day with the effort to rise above anyone else's quality." He declared proudly as he poured the water into the grounds in a circular motion.

Isha smiled at the man. Genuinely smiled. This was a refreshing change from his normal interactions with people. The smell off fresh brewed coffee soon hit his nose as the man set a cup in front of Isha, the same cup he had been polishing none the less.

The man poured the coffee into Isha's cup, humming to his self. Isha watched the steam rise from the black drink, waiting for the man to finish pouring.

"And there you have it." The man softly stated, setting the pot down. "And refills are on the house." He added, gently stroking his mustache.

"Better not be any gray hairs in here." Isha joked as he lifted the cup to his lips. As the warm liquid hit his tongue, the taste left him wanting more as he proceeded to down the entire cup. He set the cup down, wiping his lips.

"That was… the best coffee I've tasted." Isha spoke softly in an astounded tone. The man smiled and poured him another cup.

"That better not just be lip service." The man replied in a somewhat joking tone. Hearing the phrase Isha tensed up a bit. He soon eased as he convinced himself it was just a coincident, drinking the coffee again, this time sipping it to cherish the flavor.

A ding resounded as a young woman brought out a ham and cheese sandwich on rye and a bowl of tomato soup with some shredded cheese in it. She set it in front of him and walked back to the kitchen.

Isha tilted his head at the sandwich. It was precut in half, and as he picked it up he saw the contents of its insides. Cheese, a nice thick piece of ham, and tomato.

"That's my granddaughter." The man stated with a smile. "She's been here helping me when she was able to reach the ingredients. Now hurry up and eat, its food not art." He chided Isha for staring at the food.

Isha then dipped one of the halves into the soup, taking a bite from it. The taste, like the coffee, overwhelmed his senses. The old man smiled proudly as he watched Isha eat.

"Look at that May, you made another one fall for you." He joked, letting out a laugh.

"I hope this one chokes when he falls then." The girl said from the kitchen, in a rather bored tone of voice.

Isha smiled softly to his self. He finished his food and pulled a book from his jacket, sipping the coffee as he chatted with the old man, and every now and again his granddaughter whom seldomly left the kitchen.