The Meet Cute
Copyright Azalea Bennette/N.G Jefferson Lightning, crashes of thunder, and misty air never made my heart soar. A giant boom filled this little restaurant’s silence, and prickles sprouted across my skin like spiders crawling around me. Tables shook, chairs fell over. Tears lined my lower eyelids, but letting them fall in public would be a worse nightmare. A flash of light, as bright as a sclera, enveloped the outside world for a millisecond before disappearing. “Ms. Scarlette?” My head whipped away from the rain-covered window, meeting the eyes of the restaurant’s owner, Jeffred, a black man who was likely in his sixties, judging by the grey hairs atop his head. “Ms. Scarlette?” he asked again. “Are you alright?” I hid the quiver in my voice. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I looked back to the window. “How long will the storm be here?” “The news says around an hour.” Shit , I thought. Jeffred tilted his head toward my table. “Feel free to order some food or another drink if you’d like.” “Than...