A bakery vent released a ribbon of warm air into the cold. Ruth's kitchen was already open. The front windows glowed yellow against the gray street. Inside Lisa Grant stood behind the counter, refilling sugar dispensers. She looked up when Maya entered.
You're early, you're earlier. Lisa smiled. Habit. Maya shrugged off her jacket. I've got an hour before the bus.
Lisa pointed toward a stack of coffee mugs. You know where they go. Maya did. She had been helping at Ruth's whenever she could for months. No schedule, no paycheck, no announcement.
If the morning rush was heavy, she poured coffee. If someone needed a bag carried to the curb, she carried it. If Lisa was shorthanded, Maya wiped tables before class. Ruth's attracted people who worked before the city fully woke up. Hospital employees in scrubs, bus drivers between routes, restaurant workers finishing overnight prep, maintenance crews wearing reflective jackets.
Men and women who counted every dollar and still left change beneath their cups when they could. Maya liked that nobody here asked whether she belonged. She carried a pot of coffee to a table near the window. Top you off. An older man looked up.
Ernest Cole was 72 and built like someone who had spent half a lifetime turning wrenches. His hands were thick, his shoulders slightly rounded, and a faded transit service cap sat beside his plate. Only if you promise not to charge West Haven prices. Maya smiled. That'll be $400.
Ernest laughed. Put it on my tab. She poured. You heading out today? Not if these knees get a vote.
He had worked as a bus mechanic before retiring. Route 417 was his favorite subject. He claimed to know every sound those buses made. Your bus was running rough yesterday, he told her. It always runs rough.
No, yesterday was a belt. You can hear that from the sidewalk. I can hear it in my sleep. Maya shook her head. You need a hobby, huh?
I had one. It was buses. She moved to the next table. Near the counter, Lisa watched her. After a few minutes, she said quietly.
You okay? Maya kept stacking plates. Sure. Lisa leaned against the counter. I heard about the conduct office.
Maya looked up, how? College campuses have two things everywhere. Coffee and gossip. Maya smiled faintly. Lisa's expression stayed serious.
You don't have to tell me anything. "I know." But if you do need somebody who saw what happened, I saw it. Maya's hands stopped. Lisa continued.
I saw Brooke knock that tray down. I saw her step on your notebook. I saw you do nothing except pick up the mess. Maya looked at her. For a moment, she did not know what to say.