Mason clasped her hands, as he squatted before the sofa. "I love you, Nan…more than anything in this world." At thirty-six, no shame would accompany the words—the affection for his beloved grandmother.

After his father ran off with a younger woman, never to be heard from again, after his mother had a nervous breakdown then joined the Peace Corps then Amnesty International´s European division—all before his fifth birthday—Nan, his mother´s mother, nurtured him to adulthood and beyond.

Nan sat with hands in Mason´s, upon her lap. She wore thick, black-rimmed glasses, a powder-blue, knee-length knit dress, and support hose and shoes. She sported curly, gray hair and hazel eyes.

Mason´s grandmother suffered from early-stage Alzheimer´s Disease. Most days, Nan conversed with ease, no less articulate than the former schoolteacher had ever been. But some days…some hours…some moments…

Nan ogled Mason. "Who are you, young man?" MORE

Nick ached for her; he had for weeks, since they first met.

Elle Mason measured five foot six. Honey-highlighted, shoulder-length cocoa hair cupped her jaw line. Large doe eyes rested upon ample cheek bones. She spoke through full lips and a perfect smile.

Elle, thirty-one,  owned and operated Perks coffeehouse. The shop featured floor-to-ceiling front windows, exposed brick and maple floors throughout, jazz piped in via steal beam-mounted speakers, and a stocked oak bookcase that spanned an entire wall. Roasted Central American aromas wafted upon the echoes of footsteps and patron chatter.

Nick made his way two steps closer to the register. Three more people and they’d be face to face again, like each Monday through Friday morning. MORE