The Girl In The Coffee Shop

By Caedem Marquez

Car chases, romantic interludes and breathtaking moments are not the norm for Gertrude, a single, chubby college student. But as she snacks on strawberry muffins, scones, and three Frappaccinos she watches a couple locking lips in a coffee shop. As she studies them, her journalistic mind goes into overdrive. There is no circle of untanned skin where a wedding ring should be. They must be having an affair. Hoping to break her first "Cheaters-meets-TMZ" news story, she decides to follow them to a motel. And so begins an adventure she could never have imagined, and what she uncovers is the last thing she ever expected.

An excerpt from the romantic comedy, "The Path Home" is also included.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Caedem Marquez
• Release date: Jun 5, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465974532

Caedem Marquez

Ink-stained hands and the clack of the keyboard, isn't that why we write? It's the reason Caedem Marquez tells stories. Nothing makes him happier than to hear a reader has been taken away and lost in a story Caedem has created.

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THE GIRL IN THE COFFEE SHOP

By Caedem Marquez

Copyright 2011 Caedem Marquez

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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OTHER TITLES BY CAEDEM MARQUEZ

Bed Green – A Short Story

The Girl In The Coffee Shop

I watch the two across the coffee shop as I sit in the only chair that is big enough to hold me. My long pin-straight brown hair keeps snagging on the five pound bible on my lap.

Their smiling faces are two inches apart. Their fingertips gently graze, softly dance, and playfully intermingle. His thumb skims her palm. Her index finger traces the ridge of his hand. Their eyes are locked and their grins…well their grins are as bright as the monster diamond on her left ring finger. They have everything they could ever want in their little five by five foot cocoon of love, which is made up of two sofa chairs, a beautiful maroon rug decorated with interlaced leaves and flowers, and two cups of coffee.

The only thing missing from the whole scene is a shiny band of gold that should encircle his ring finger. Did he lose it? I look at his finger. There is no tell-tale loop of untanned skin. Nope, he didn’t lose it.

They’re having an affair.

He scoots his middle-aged butt to the edge of the oversized sofa chair and makes little kissing sounds using his old lips. She laughs and for some reason I notice her toe arch. They kiss. It is not a long loving and passionate kiss, no the kiss is plural—they are many, many, small, little rabbit kisses.

Sick and gross.

Fornicators.

Get a room!

As if they can hear my mental outburst, they stand. They