4345.90 · March 31, 2025 AD
Costume Shoes
Nathan knows how to watch without being watched. Eight months behind the espresso machine have taught him the Leaf & Bean's rhythms—who belongs, who lingers, who asks questions with too much precision. Today, two men enter separately but leave together. Their interest isn't in the coffee. It's in Daniel, in the sourcing, in secrets they shouldn't know exist. The café hums with morning routine. Beneath it, something is being measured.
The flat white is perfect. The croissant fresh from the oven. Professor MacDougall grades papers by the window whilst the elderly sisters complete their crossword in comfortable silence. Just another morning at Leaf & Bean.
Except Nathan notices everything.
The man in the grey coat hasn't touched his cappuccino in forty minutes. His shoes are expensive but unworn—costume shoes, bought for show. His gaze returns to Daniel with mechanical precision, tracking movements, cataloguing habits. When he finally approaches the counter, his questions are too specific. Not flavour profiles. Sources. Suppliers. Secrets disguised as casual curiosity.
A second man browses the retail display without buying anything. His attention keeps drifting to Daniel. His accent wavers. His stubble is too perfect.
They leave separately but acknowledge each other outside—a nod, a signal, a handoff.
Daniel's smile stays fixed, professional, revealing nothing. But his knuckles whiten around the coffee package. His shoulders carry tension that wasn't there yesterday.
Nathan steams milk to silky perfection and keeps watching.
The Leaf & Bean has always been more than a café.
Someone else has finally noticed.
