The coffee place on Spruce is called Groundwork.
It has seven tables, all small, and a chalkboard menu written in the handwriting of someone who genuinely cares about coffee and has opinions about it but isn't going to make you feel bad about yours. The barista is a man named Pete who is not the same Pete as the wedding photographer but who has a similar quality of quiet competence that makes you feel like everything is going to be fine.
Maya arrives at eight-oh-two.
Daniel is already there. Of course he is. He has the look of someone who is always early. Not anxiously early — not the hovering, phone-checking early of someone managing their anxiety through punctuality. Just early the way people are early when they consider lateness a small discourtesy and act accordingly.
He has two coffees.
He ordered for her. Or he started the process — two cups on the table, one clearly his, one clearly waiting.
She looks at the cups. Then at him.
