Balham Bliss
"Coffee shop owner Natasha makes the best flat whites in Balham, but when morning regular Oliver finally asks her name, she brews him something stronger than espresso."
Six months. Same order. Same time. Oliver had never asked her name.
"Natasha," she said one morning, unprompted.
"I'm sorry?"
"Yuh been coming here six months. Yuh never asked mi name. Is Natasha."
"I'm Oliver. I was afraid to ask."
"Afraid? Of mi?"
"Of being disappointed if you weren't as wonderful as you seem."
She was more wonderful. Coffee became conversation. Morning became lunch. Lunch became everything.
"Why mi?" she asked. "Six months of watching before yuh even spoke."
"Because you were the best part of every day. I didn't want to ruin it."
"And now?"
"Now I want to make it better."
Better was her flat above the shop. That thick body pressed against him, coffee-scented and warm.
"Yes! Oliver! Right there!"
Strong and rich and perfect, like everything she made.
"Don't stop! Yuh hitting the spot perfect!"
"I should have asked your name on day one," he said after.
"Yuh asked when yuh were ready."
"I wasted six months."
"Yuh savored it." She kissed him. "Like good coffee. Worth the wait."
Oliver's morning routine changed.
Now he wakes in Natasha's bed.
Gets the first cup before anyone else.
And the last kiss before sleep.
Balham bliss.
Brewed to perfection.
Every single day.