2.5
The customers didn’t seem to mind Yvette’s distorted love hearts. One woman of about her age had come in every morning in that first week, ordered a latte and sat at a table by the window. She was a large woman with a kind face and she’d opened a book the moment she was seated. She seemed self-contained; Yvette hardly gave her a second glance. Their only interaction occurred when Yvette set down her latte and the woman made a brief comment about the haphazard brown shape floating on the froth.
On Friday, as Yvette set down her cup the woman chuckled and said, ‘Different every time, eh?’
‘I’m not good with love hearts,’ Yvette said apologetically.
‘I’m sure you are.’
The woman beamed good will. She was dressed today in a flowing burgundy frock. Long beaded necklaces rested on her f
