Daniel finds a chair and sits. “White, no sugar. Extra milk, though.”
The place sounds pretty busy, but then it usually is. Daniel’s been here before. He wonders if it’s the same girl at the counter as last time he was in, and if she’s staring at him as he folds up the white stick carefully and puts it in his coat pocket. He sits there listening to other people’s conversations until he feels a large body brush past him and a couple of mugs hit the table with a thunk.
“There you go, mate. Extra milk, just like you asked for.”
The coffee’s bloody marvellous, strong and milky, uplifting and comforting all at once. From the smells around him it must be around lunchtime, and Daniel’s surprised to find his stomach growling. He could just go an all-day breakfast, but he doesn’t fancy eating in
