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It was no longer quite sweater weather, but the air was still crisp enough in the mornings to warrant a light jacket. Prior to leaving the house on an early Saturday morning, Rick retrieved a light butterscotch colored sweater form the back of his closet. It was something simple, something that would easily pair with jeans and black shoes. He didn’t care too much about being fashionable and doubted anyone would comment on his style. It was just before midnight on Friday, while tossing and turning in his bed, that Rick decided he would go out for breakfast. His aunt had been pestering him constantly about getting out of the house and meeting new people. This time he’d decided to heed his aunt’s advice.
At 7:30 am there was already a line for Café Lafayette. This recently opened café was located in an old firehouse and allegedly served the best beignets in the city. After quickly moving to the front of the line, Rick decided to treat himself to a ham and cheese croissant and cup of black coffee. As he scanned the packed room for open seating, he noticed a singular open chair at an already occupied table near the window. The woman seated at the far end of the small table caught his eye. She looked tall, from what he could tell, elegant, and inviting. Her mahogany skin glowed against her fitted deep cut orange top and black jeans. Worried about the pending awkward interaction, Rick inhaled deeply and simply asked, “Is this seat taken?”
“No it’s not. This place is getting so popular I might have to find somewhere else to spend my Saturday mornings,” she said lightly.
“So, you come here often,” Rick said after taking a sip of coffee.
“Every Saturday morning for the last two months. The key is to get here by 7 am and you’ll never have to worry about a finding a seat,” she replied.
Rick scanned the woman’s face and body for any clues as to who she was or where she was from. Next to her left leg sat a large black leather bag with a silver laptop inside. “Are you a writer,” he asked gesturing towards her laptop.
She smiled, “I wish. But no, I am not a writer. I’m an attorney. How about yourself?”
“I’m just a regular man with a mediocre office job,” Ricked joked.
Her laugh was infectious. “I don’t know you but surely, you’re more than regular. Give yourself some credit….Mr…Mr..?”
With a mouthful of croissant he replied, “Rick Grimes. By the way I’m sorry for asking you all these questions. I’m sure you wanted a quiet breakfast alone and here I come interrupting your morning.”
“My name is Michonne Hawthorne, and you aren’t bothering me. With your accent you definitely aren’t originally from around here, are you,” she asked.
Rick couldn’t help but wonder if his accent was really that strong, but perhaps it was. “I’m from Kentucky originally and raised on a farm in Georgia.” Rick examined Michonne’s plate, she was eating a single Nutella filled crepe with a cup of tea and a side of sliced fruit.
She shifted in her seat, revealing a thin gold necklace with a cursive M pendent dangling along her collarbone. “We’re in the city, almost everyone is originally from somewhere else. I was born in Zimbabwe and now I’m here at Café Lafayette eating breakfast with a handsome stranger.”
Rick leaned in with a huge smile across his face. “So, you think I’m handsome?”
“Never mind, I reascend my compliment,” Michonne laughed.
“No, no, no, you can’t take compliments back,” he laughed as he ran his left hand through his curly hair. “What else do you have planned for today? Anything interesting,” Rick asked.
Michonne moved tucked a single braid behind her ear. “I have some errands to run and cleaning to do, nothing too exciting. But I do have to get going, I can’t let the morning get away from me.”
With a burst of confidence Rick blurted, “Can I take you out for dinner tonight, Michonne?”
“No,” she responded quickly.
Rick looked down at his half-eaten croissant, feeling a little dejected. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have assumed anything. A woman like you is probably married.”
Michonne shook her head, “I’m not married. You just can’t take me out tonight.”
Rick’s furrowed brow displayed an obvious mix of confusion and frustration.
“Tonight I’m having dinner with a friend from college,” she said softly. “But…I don’t have any plans for tomorrow night.”
Quickly rising from the chair, with a patched-up ego Rick replied, “That’s great. I’m looking forward to it. How about I call you later today with the details? Is there a certain food you like, or maybe don’t like? Do you have any allergies?” He was beginning to ramble and couldn’t stop himself.
Michonne laughed and gestured for Rick to hand over his cell. She saved her number simply as M. “I don’t have allergies and I’m not a picky eater, so whatever you choose will be fine. Also….I like your vintage phone,” she joked.
“Yea, I’ve been meaning to update it, but I just can’t figure out a reason why. I mean, it makes calls, it receives messages, and it’s an alarm clock. What else do I really need,” he said. Rick’s phone was not quite vintage but was about ten models behind the most current edition.
Satisfied with his completely practical explanation Michonne said one final goodbye and exited the café. Rick watched intensely as she disappeared from view. The rest of his day would be spent carefully researching the best restaurants and replaying their interaction a dozen times. He may not know this woman, but she was someone that he most definitely wanted to spend every day with.
-End