Taste Of Coffee
Jake Devonshire seemed like a man who had all and lost all, reflected in those wary jaded, dark orbs of his peering deep into the coffee mug. There was an awkward silence in the way the two of them faced each other across the glossy tan marble table meant for exactly two.
Inside this late open hour coffee shop whose name Dane didn't bother to remember, it was only the two of them with the exception of a dozing waitress behind the register.
When Dane revealed his identity, Jake did what any sane and rational man would do. Jake bolted. Of course, Jake was no match for Dane. He seized the trecherous man in a matter of seconds and brought him back to where they were at the present time.
Dane took a sip of his coffee, watching Jake stare motionlessly at his coffee.
"You're not going to take a sip?"
"I don't drink coffee. Not since I retired from being a detective."