return

Early spring was one of the nicest times in New Orleans, and that was especially true for those in the service industry. They were between one major flux of tourists for Mardi Gras and another for spring break—though there was never not tourists—so things were pretty calm in Phoenix Effect. It was mostly regulars and locals during the busy morning and lunch hours, and Andy actually felt like he had time to think now and then.

He also had time to get out from behind the counter and wander around the coffee house, straightening up as needed. That was less thrilling than being able to hear his own thoughts, but well, he was getting paid for it. So he did, wiping spills, pushing in chairs, tidying up newspapers, just generally being busy.

When he paused by an empty table to sweep clear an abandoned chess game, he noticed a light-haired guy around his age alone in a nearby seat and politely said, "How's everything going?" because that's what you were supposed to say to a patron.

Andy had been hoping this job would help him with his social skills, and he'd been right, sort of. It was going off script that could be the hard part.