“Good,” said the stranger. He helped Dante off the ground and picked up the empty cups. He looked down at his cellphone. “Shit. I’m late.” The guy rummaged around in his pocket and pulled out his wallet and a pen. “Here. Buy yourself another coffee.” He held a ten out for Dante.
“Thanks, but you don’t need to do that,” said Dante, brushing dirt from the front of his pants.
“But I want to,” the guy said.
“Got a piece of paper?” What the fuck are you doing?
“What for?”
“Give me your number. If you really want to get me a cuppa, let’s make a date out of it,” said Dante.
The guy looked at the ground around him, as though he could make a piece of paper materialize from thin air. His face lit up when he remembered he was holding ten bucks. He scrawled something across the top of the bill with the pen. “I’m late,” he said again, thrusting the ten in Dante’s hand. “Call me.” The stranger turned and bolted down the block.