The Cold

The Cold

“Alright, sir, what can I get you?”

…

“Sir?”

“Oh, sorry, my dear. My hearing ain’t what it used to be. Old age is a real bite in the ass.”

“Yeah, uh… I bet.”

“Uncle’s Breakfast for me, dear. And make the bacon nice and crunchy, would you? A little char never hurt anybody.”

“Mhmm, you got it.” “Jerry! Uncle’s—bacon charred!”

“Got it, Kayla! Little char on the eggs too? Haha!”

“I’m losing my patience with you, Jerry. Fair warning.”

“Oh, I just love pushing your buttons.”

“Just get back to making mediocre diner food, would ya, Jerry?”

“You wound me, Kayla.”

“Yeah, yeah…” “Your orange juice, ma’am.”

“Is that without pulp? Can’t have pulp. Clogs me up like a wooden cork!”

“Yes, ma’am, pulp-free. I scooped out each pulp myself.” “And, thank you for that wonderful visual.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Enjoy your drink.”

“Excuse me.”

“Yes, sir?”

“I don’t mean to be a burden, but my coffee’s a little cold. Could you nuke it, Miss Kayla?”

“Cold?”

“Yes, Miss Kayla.”

“It’s steaming.”

“I, uh, like my coffee scorching. My mama always said it’s ‘cause my soul’s too cold. Need burning coffee to warm it up.”

“Um… okay. I’ll put it over the heat for a minute. That work?”

“Much appreciated, Miss Kayla.”

“I’ll be right back with your coffee. Uncle’s breakfast will be out soon.”

“Cheers, milady.”

“Yup. Cheers.”

“Why do the odd folks always come out at midnight?”

“I think you lure them out.”

“You’re hilarious, Jerry. I’m serious though. This old guy says his coffee’s cold. Feel this and tell me if it’s cold.”

“Maybe the pot went—ouch! Yeah, that’s damn hot. Almost burned my finger off. Thanks, Kayla.”

“That’s what I’m saying! If I heat this up any more, I’ll give that man third-degree burns.”

“Customer’s always right, right?”

“Customer’s never right in my experience. But they like to think they are.”

“That’s for sure.”

“Whatever. I’ll scorch this damn cup and call it a night. His food ready yet? I wanna go to bed.”

“Plating it now, sleepyhead. Hey, you know what’d wake you up? A little rendezvous out—”

“Not in the mood for another ‘sex behind the dumpster’ joke tonight, Jerry. Go home to your kids.”

“You’re no fun. Here’s your order—hope it’s burnt enough for him!”

“I doubt it.”

“Here you are, sir. Your very hot coffee and your charred breakfast. Be careful, that coffee is—”

“Mmm. Refreshing. Exactly what I needed. Thank you, my dear lady.”

“…How did you… that coffee was damn near the temperature of the sun. How’d you drink it so fast?”

“I have an affinity for the cold, Miss Kayla. No matter how hot my coffee is, the cold won’t break away.”

“That doesn’t sound good. Maybe you should get that checked out, Mister…”

“Bradford. Jebediah Bradford, ma’am. Call me Jeb. Jebediah’s too formal.”

“Yeah, uh… pleasure to meet you. Enjoy your food.”

“Most pleasurable, indeed.”

“What’d you say, Jeb?”

“I said thank you, Miss Kayla. I am most grateful.”

…

“How’s the bacon, Jeb?”

“Crisp. Like autumn leaves underfoot. Just the way you like it.”

“…The way I like it?”

“Yes, Miss Kayla. I’ve seen you order it often enough.”

“I don’t eat bacon.”

“Not anymore. You stopped two years ago. Doctor said cholesterol.”

“…What?”

“Did I say that out loud? Forgive me. Old tongue slips.”

…

“Jerry, did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“He knew about me quitting bacon. How would he know that?”

“Maybe you told him?”

“I didn’t.”

“Kayla, relax. He’s just being friendly.”

“…Friendly feels different.”

“How so?”

“Most friendly customers don’t just sit there watching you. I can feel his eyes on me every time I turn.”

“He probably just has a little crush. I mean, you can’t blame the guy — not with that short skirt on.”

“I’ll murder you, Jerry. For real this time.”

“Oh no — I’m trembling.”

“Ugh. Will this shift ever end?”

…

“Why won’t he leave? I’ve been refilling his on-fire coffee for an hour!”

“Maybe he’s waiting to get your number after your shift. He’s got guts, I’ll give him that.”

“Shut up, Jerry.”

“Just tell him to scram. We’re closing soon anyway.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Hey, Jeb, not to rush you but we’re closing in ten minutes.”

“Oh! Sorry, Miss Kayla. Time must’ve slipped away. With company as warm as yours, it’s easy for it to do so.”

“Right… yeah. I’ll go get your check.”

“He’s starting to creep me out.”

“Want me to tell him to back off?”

“No. He’s just… old. Probably lonely.”

…

“Excuse me, Kayla.”

“Y-yes, Jeb?”

“You have a warmth about you. A hearth-fire warmth. I noticed it the first night.”

“The first night?”

“Yes. That shift you dropped your tray—three mugs shattered. You laughed, though your hand was bleeding. You warmed the whole room with that laugh.”

“…That was six years ago.”

“Yes, Miss Kayla. I’ve never missed a night since.”

“…What do you mean you’ve never missed a night?”

“Always watching. Always listening. Always cold. Until you.”

“Jerry!”

“Kayla, you alright?”

“Stay where you are, Jerry.”

“What?”

“Stay. She needs to hear this.”

“…What the hell?”

“My mama was right. Said I was born with ice in my veins, frost in my heart. No touch ever warmed me. No sun ever thawed me. But you…”

“Jeb, stop.”

“…You cracked it. I can feel your heat from across the room. And soon, it’ll be inside me. I’ll drink it in. Your soul, Kayla. That golden ember. Then the cold will finally die.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Crazy is to deny hunger, my dear. Crazy is to starve when the feast sits smiling at you.”

“I’m not smiling.”

“You don’t need to. I’ve memorized every curve already.”

“I’ve had enough of this. Jerry, call the cops.”

“The phone’s dead, Kayla. The line’s been cut.”

“…What did you do?”

“Nothing you’ll remember.”

“You’re not touching me.”

“Oh, my dear. I already have. Every night. In every shadow. In every corner you thought was empty. You’ve never been alone. Never.”