I’m a bit off this morning. Couldn’t sleep last night. I don’t know if it was the excitement of getting closer to answers, getting closer to meeting Max. Whatever it was, it made me toss and turn for hours. After a cup of strong, black coffee, I feel I’m starting to come back to ‘human form’ and I’m capable of smiling back at customers without looking like I’m in pain.

I like the smell of coffee. I think I’ve always liked it, but in the last few days, it’s become something of a comforting, familiar presence. When you work in a café, the smell of coffee is on everything. Your clothes, your hair, your hands. No point trying to wash it off; it’s there to stay.

I also notice I’m beginning to appreciate the routine more and more. Getting to know the regulars is the highlight of my day. Saying hi to them and even making small talk. That’s big for me.

Today I chatted with Brienne. I know from Celine she’s a single mother of three small boys and an advanced math professor at Stanford. Every morning—at least since I’ve been here—she barges in at seven, her hair disheveled, her clothes mismatched and her eyes puffy.

“Long night?” I asked this morning as I was making her triple espresso.

She nodded and barely said a word until she took a few sips of coffee. “I can’t stay long. The boys are coming back home from a sleepover soon,” she said.

I smiled. It must be hard to take care of three boys on your own, with nobody to help.

She then grabbed her quarter baguette with cheese, lettuce and tomatoes, the three pastrami sandwiches for the boys and left just as fast as she came in. Yesterday afternoon she brought the boys too, and kept them busy with tablets, while she graded papers.

Brienne is a beautiful woman, or better said, I think she used to be. She doesn’t take as much care of herself as she could.

“I never have time for anything,” she complained yesterday afternoon to Celine who asked what the rush was. She must be in her mid-thirties, no more, with a naturally flattering complexion and round brown eyes, big and inquisitive. Celine calls her ‘Bambi’.

A bit later in the day, I meet Hugo, yet another member of our ‘Blue Valentines’ Club’, as Celine calls them. She told me that when he first came in three years ago, he was happily married, about to buy a house with his new wife and planning a trip around the world. He dreamed of having a child and said they were trying. Six months later, she had gone on the expensive trip together with all of his savings and the few jewelry pieces he had from his mother. There was never going to be a child because she admitted to being on the pill all that time. He was left with half of what he had, no house and obviously no wife. He has sworn off dating or even getting close to a woman and said two divorces were enough for him. I think it’s too bad. He has salt and pepper hair and deep brown eyes, is charming and can hold a conversation like no other, is in good shape, plus he has a good job, working for the Mayorship of Monterey as their head communication expert.