New York was beginning to be engulfed by the night. The Brewed Haven, unlike this morning, saw its seats slowly emptying as customers buzzed out to welcome the night in their homes. It was a sign that Kafka needed to call it a day. As she busied herself wiping the vacant tables and arranging the chairs, she heard shuffling and footsteps. It was Franz; she hadn’t left yet. Franz stood next to her.
“Hi, I thought you already left. Anything I can do for you?” Kafka said while arranging the chair. She tried to mask her sadness with a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her tone. She was sad. She sounded sad.
“I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” Franz began. Kafka looked at her, confused. Sensing this, Franz clarified, “You and Mr. Schneider, I mean.” Kafka cleared her throat to ease the lump starting to build up. She felt like crying again.
“Believe me, there’s nothing,” said Kafka.