Ok, I will freestyle something for you.
It's just another closing night for Anita, same routine, same scraping sound as she pushes the chairs in under the cafe tables, same clanking thunk as she shuts the cash register, same bleach smell that penetrates the air from the cleaning solution. It's easy work for her, and there aren't many surprises or challenges day to day. This gives her a sense of calm, but deeply she feels like she could be doing more with her life. Not only that, but money has been tight for as long as she can recall working as an adult. No trips to the seaside for her, no special outings with friends, no shopping trips or superfluous purchases... it gets old, feeling this way, she thinks as she sighs and locks the glass door. Turning around, she immediately spots something out of the ordinary. Anita is frightened at first, and clutches the paper bag of slightly stale baked goods she's holding. After some further observation, the tension leaves her body, and she becomes increasingly curious. There is a man, standing outside his car, and the window is cracked. A little girl is in the driver's seat, with her elbows propped up on the door's armrest, making faces at the man and hollering intelligibly. "Vera!!" the man yells desperately, "you unlock this door right now!" Realizing she is essentially standing at the storefront gawking, Anita begins moving slowly, making her way toward her vehicle. Luckily, due to his situation the man has not noticed her yet. "You listen to your father this instant!!" the man cries. A resounding "No! No! Noooo!" series of shrieks fill the mostly vacant parking lot. The man almost pounds his fist on the hood of the car before drawing back. "You promised! You promised and you didn't!" this little girl wails. Anita is at her car now, pretending she's misplaced her keys, continuing to watch this saga unfold. Suddenly, the man's stance changes. His shoulders fall and his head hangs down. Slowly, he lowers him self to the asphalt rubble and places his head to his knees, with one palm reaching up, pressed against that window. It sounds as though Vera's tantrum has subsided into sad little girl sobs now. Anita hears the man groan, his voice breaking "I'm sorry, baby girl. I'm s-so sorry." She feels this pit in her stomach, and her hands are shaking. She knows this isn't her business, but something heartbreaking has unfolded here, and she would feel quite bad just leaving this man sitting in the parking lot like that. Anita is about a few feet from the man, standing beside one of the rear fenders as she calls out softly, "sir...? Are you alright?" He immediately looks up, eyes glazed with sorrow but his expression tightened by surprise. "Oh, shit. I am so sorry ma'am. I didn't realize there was anyone around." He stands up and brushes his trousers off, before turning to look at Anita. He gestures towards the cracked window. "This here is my daughter, Vera. She's... upset today. It's her mother's birthday and I wasn't able to get her favorite cupcake before the bakeries closed." He appears flustered by Anita's intrusion, but there is something off with him, the way he's speaking. She can't put her finger on it. He smiled sadly. "She's angry with me and locked the door," the man continues. He doesn't seem upset with the little girl at all, merely fatigued; his mind seems to be in a different place. "Oh my," Anita starts, "that's no good." Suddenly she feels awkward, and not sure what to say. "You might be needing a crowbar or something then?" She laughs. "It doesn't seem like Vera is going to forgive you!" The man looks down at his shoes and chuckles, "no I don't suspect so." The little girl looks up at Anita through her tears, and Anita smiles gently at her. As if through magic, Vera's expression changes wildly, and she jump up in her (father's) seat. "Nice lady!! Do you have cupcakes!?" she squeals. Her father's eyes widen as he turns to gauge Anita's reaction. "Oh! Uhm, well, kind of... see, they are muffins—like a cupcake without frosting." Before she can ask if Vera's ever had a muffin before, the little girl vibrantly interrupts. "What flavors!?" she asks excitedly, smiling. Anita laughs to herself a bit, glances downward, before looking back at the girl, turning to her father, who nods encouragingly. "Well, Vera, tonight I have apple cinnamon, banana walnut, and double chocolate fudge." Vera is buzzing with excitement, almost bouncing in her seat, exclaiming that her mother loves chocolate. "Can we buy your muffins?? Please, please!! Daddy please! Mommy doesn't like the icing anyways. She always takes it off! This. Is. Perfect!!" she rambles on loudly. The father looks out of sorts, somewhat embarrassed, and just about to make some odd excuse or another, before Anita gently holds up her hand to him, gesturing for him to hush. She bends down, her face right up against the window, smirking like a cartoon character. "I'll tell you what, Vera, you and your mommy and daddy can HAVE all these muffins IF you open the car door!" Vera squints her eyes, acting as though she is contemplating this "deal." Anita realizes this stubborn cutie is going to need some extra reassurances. "Sweetie, if you don't unlock the door, then Daddy can't drive you home to eat these muffins!" The little girl, fiery and confident one moment, appears to shift into a calmer, stoic expression. "That is true..." she drawls, "you have to pinky promise about the muffins though!" Anita smiles, over her shoulder hearing the father's laughter. "Deal!" she exclaims as she reaches her right hand through the cracked car window, pinky finger embracing a much smaller pinky finger. The door finally clicks as Vera punches the button. Her father is waiting and ready and stealthily swings open the door and scoops his little girl up in his arms. "You're a pretty good little arbitrator, aren't you!" he cries as he kisses her cheek. "A what??" Vera questions. "Nothing, nothing," he mutters as he places her back down and crouches to face her. "I know you were upset, Vera, but you can never, never, EVER do that to Daddy again, okay?" he says sternly. All at once, the guilt falls on this little girl. She turns to the side, embarrassed, and sad. "I'm sorry, Daddy" she whispers. "I promise I won't," she claims louder. "Okay, baby girl, okay," he says before kissing her forehead and standing back up. Anita smiles gently at him. "Glad I could help," she insists as she hands the paper bag to him. "You have been, an absolute, birthday life saver!" the father exaggerates, comically waving his hands in the air. "Now, Vera, what do we say to this very, very nice lady?" he insists warmly. "Thank you! Thank you!" Vera almost screams. "Haha, awh, you are very welcome!" Anita replies as she starts to back away and move toward her car. The father is guiding little Vera to the backseat where she belongs, and Anita waves at him happily. "Thank you!" he yells across the parking lot. She gets in her car and feels this warmth inside her chest. Who would have thought, she thinks to herself, that a normal night would give her this strange and comedic exchange. She laughs to herself as she pulls out of the parking lot, imagining this little girl bursting through the door, waving that brown paper bag around, explaining the concept of "muffins" to her mother. Anita drives home, just like any other night, but feeling just a little different, lighter.
It's about noon the next day, and Anita is starting her mid shift. She's reminded of that little girl when she refills the double chocolate chunk muffins and smiles a bit to herself. Other than that, time moves along just as it always does. Customers come and customers go. It's about 5pm when she is busy cleaning off a tabletop and hears a familiar voice from behind her say, "Excuse me, Miss." She turns around to see parking lot guy, who is, definitely, even more handsome under normal lighting. "Oh, uh, hi!" Anita stammers awkwardly, putting her hands in her apron. "Do you have a moment?"the man asks calmly. "Sure, of course!" she replies. "First off," he starts, "thank you again for last night. I was at my wits end there for a minute." Anita half smiles and nods in response, "Really, it was no big deal. Honestly, I get tired of muffins!" she says jokingly. "Really, that was so kind of you, and I'd like to pay you for those," he says, making direct eye contact with her. "Oh my gosh, no, no worries. Those were probably pretty stale! We wouldn't have even sold them," Anita explains. "I insist!" the man claims passionately, handing her some cash. "Alright, alright, fine," she mumbles, a bit embarrassed. "Well, did Vera's mom like her unfrosted chocolate cupcake" she asks wittily. The man's shoulders stiffen a bit, and a pained expression flashes across his features for a moment, revealing deeper lines on his face. "Uhm, well, Vera's mother passed away almost two years ago," he says softly. "Oh! Oh my. I'm so sorry. I mean, I'm sorry for your loss," Anita stammers sincerely. "Thank you," he replies with a strained smile. "We still celebrate her birthday, I feel like it makes it easier for Vera..." he trails off, putting his hands in his front pockets. Anita was not prepared for the conversation to take this serious turn. She feels her stomach knotting and feels absolutely terrible for this man. Sitting dejectedly in the parking lot like that, she thinks, it all makes sense now. "I don't mean to make you feel all down," he murmurs, taking a step closer to Anita. "No, no, it's fine. I asked," she stutters, feeling a rush of blood to her cheeks. "I can't remember the last time I laughed like that..." he says, his eyes smoldering at this point. "Vera won't stop talking about how pretty the "nice muffin lady" was, and really... she's the one who encouraged me to come by today," he admits, smiling sweetly. Anita is paralyzed, and her nerves are wrecked in the moment. She's praying that her lips aren't visibly trembling. This, is not what she expected, at all. "It's funny, I never did get your name? I'm David," he says, holding his hand out to her. "Anita," she manages, as she shakes his hand, mesmerized. "Well, Anita, I would love to see you again sometime. How would you feel about that?" he asks, sincerely. Anita looks down at her hands in her apron, and back up to David's expressly handsome and kind face. "I would like that," she admits, smiling.
"Great, how about coffee?"
the end.
