Coffee Shop Girl


I usually finish my mail route and have an hour or so before having to collect mail from the street letter boxes. Today I decided to go for a coffee during this break. I went to Mandolin. A tiny little book store/coffee shop. The counter was being run by a woman and the only person sitting in the place was that woman’s daughter. A chubby lil 9 year old ginger girl, with frizzy hair and a turned up nose.

The woman at the counter asked, “Do you deliver in this neighbourhood?”

“Uuh. I’m actually in Beverley.”

The chubby girl said, “That’s close enough.”

I agreed. “Yeah. It’s not too far.”

After I paid I went to the back of the store and browsed the books.

“Who was that man?” I heard the girl ask. She was speaking at the same volume she was just prior.

“I don’t know.” Her mother was a little more hushed.

“But who was he? Do you know him?”

“No. He’s just a mailman.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he was wearing a mailman’s uniform.”

“Oh.” The little girl paused. She had failed to notice. Chubby, ginger and a real dummy. Poor thing. “Remember that mailman I used to like? He was real nice?”

“Yeah,” her mother said.

“Yeah… That’s not him. Is it?”

“No.” Her mother broke the news.

She was making Valentine’s cards.

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