Today there weren’t that many people so that means less chances of me spilling coffee to anyone as I rush to and from.

As the door opens, I look up and I am shocked to see the spilt coffee guy, not once does he look around he goes straight to the table he was occupying yesterday and looks at the menu on the table.

I take a deep breath as I walk in his direction with a notepad on my left hand. “Are you ready to order.” He looks at me and his eyes pierce right through me as if he is drilling a hole on my forehead. He still held that mysterious look of his “Engish breakfast and coffee.” He says. His voice is deep so deep that it can cause the earth to rumble, before I can leave he hands me the t-shirt.

I don’t bother telling him that he didn’t have to and I am sure not going to ask about the money from yesterday.

I look at him as I wipe the counter, he is wearing an Adidas shirt today with a denim jean. He looks to be 34 years, I was never good at guessing ages but he sure seems like he is in his 30s.

As he sits there, I wonder. I wonder as to what is his name? I don’t know why I want to know but I just do.

“The order is ready.” Tlalane says, pulling me from my thoughts. I happily take the tray to the spilt coffee guy.

And just like yesterday he left a huge pile of money on the table, I am greatful for the tips but R500 tips seems to be a bit too much.