Purgatory

Kara paused in front of the door to the small coffee shop. The Grand Opening banner hung just above the door. Before entering the building, she glanced through the window. It wasn’t crowded, having only only one of the five tables occupied. Afternoon was a good time to visit.

She took a deep breath and opened the door. Stepping in, she immediately inhaled the aroma of coffee and spices mingling together. It instantly reminded her of and Indian Bazaar.

As she stepped up to the counter, the barista, who didn’t look much older than sixteen, smiled at her.

“Welcome to Purgatory. Would you like to try a free cup of our house blend?”

“What’s the house blend?” Kara smiled back.

“Coriander, ginger, galangal, cardamom, cloves, long pepper, licorice root, and coconut perfectly blended with a dark roast.”

“So, Chukka Kupaai,” Kara smiled.

The young barista blinked and nodded, telling her she was the first customer to identify it.

Kara took her coffee and sat down at a table on the other side of the room from the already occupied table. After adding creamer to her coffee, she took a sip and smiled. “Tastes like India,” she thought.

About halfway through her coffee, she heard a deep voice behind her. She glanced, inconspicuously, over her shoulder and saw a tall dark-haired man talking to the table at the other side of the room. She quickly turned back to her coffee and tucked a strand of mouse-brown hair behind her ear that fell out of her ponytail.

She took another sip of her coffee, sensing the man approaching her table.

“Good afternoon. How are you enjoying your Chukka Kaapi?” He was standing beside her smiling.

“It’s wonderful, thank you,” she said glancing up at him tentatively. Her heart skipped a beat as she met his dark eyes.

Suddenly, the man’s face changed. His smile widened and his eyes twinkled. He motioned to the chair and waited for Kara to nod before sitting down. His hair moved and brushed the tops of his shoulders as he sat.

“You’re Kara Park! The travel journalist! I loved your exposé on the Mashco-Piro tribe. I am sorry. I just gushing here. I haven’t properly introduced myself. My name is Rhys. Rhys McDermitt,” he held his hand out in front of him.

Kara took his hand and smiled. “I guess you already know me,” she said quietly, barely looking at him.

“What brings you to Diamond Hill?” He noticed she was almost done with her coffee and motioned to the barista to bring her another.

“I actually live here,” Kara scrunched her face and chuckled.

“You live here? In Diamond Hills? I don’t believe it,” Rhys leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.

“Yup. Born and raised,” Kara found herself laughing.

“I thought all you writers lived in New York or California. Some big city. Not some little town with nothing going for it but a few retro shops.”

“Oh I don’t know about that. The town has a quaint feeling. You call it retro, I call it rustic. I kind of like coming home to a quiet place where you know everyone. Plus, I get my fill of the more busy places. All of those places are nice to visit, but I like the quiet and “retro” feel of home,” she smiled and bit her lip, realizing she had talked more to this stranger than she had in her whole lifetime.

She nodded her thanks to the barista and took a sip of her fresh coffee. As she pulled her wallet out to pay for the second cup, Rhys shook his head and held up his hand.

“It’s on me,” he smiled at her and she couldn’t help but smile back.