"You're in my spot," the woman said.
Darian looked up from his laptop. The coffee shop was nearly full and the woman standing in front of him had a bag over one shoulder and a folder under her arm and the specific expression of someone who had been looking forward to something and had arrived to find it occupied.
"I don't see your name on it," he said.
"It's the corner seat. By the window. Away from the door." She looked at him evenly. "It's the only table in this entire place where you can work without someone walking past and reading your screen every four minutes."
He looked at his screen. Then at her. "You've been counting."
"I've been sitting at that table every Tuesday and Thursday for seven months." She didn't move. "How long have you been coming here?"
"This is my third time.
