It was a stormy night at the Steamy Beans cafe. Crackled jazz played from faulty speakers. Nikki cleaned the register glass shielding leftover sandwiches. Steve pretended not to watch her from a back table, shuffling student papers while staring at his smartphone. He’d finished grading papers an hour ago, but didn’t have anywhere to go. His entire life revolved around being a professor.

Steve snuck another glimpse of Nikki from the corner of his eye. She leaned over the table, her slender arm stretched over to the tip jar. She collected the few lone singles Steve bequeathed on his first, second, and third round of pumpkin spice latte. She looked up at Steve. Their eyes met and she smiled. Steve beamed widely, resting his hand on his arm, and promptly knocking over his coffee. His graded papers drank up the river of pumpkin spice. Steve hurried for dispenser’s napkins, dabbed…