I’m mortified. Oh my God. Two days in a row. “I’m sorry, so sorry,” I keep saying.

I’m waiting for him to swear or have an aggressive reaction. Instead, he gets up with a swift move and just stands there, staring at me, not saying a word. I run to the bar and bring paper towels, to help him wipe his clothes but when I’m about to clean his sweater, he mumbles something I don’t understand as he backs off. He doesn’t want me touching him. I have to keep that in mind. People don’t like strangers touching them, especially strangers who live in their house and who just ruined their clothes, quite possibly their laptop, and definitely their day. Not that I want to touch him.

Ethan takes his things, dripping as they are, shoves them in his backpack and goes into the kitchen. Everyone in the coffee shop is staring at me and I wish the earth would swallow me. I see myself going deeper and deeper into the stone floor, until there’s no trace of me.

That won’t solve my problem. Quickly, I remake the orders I’ve just ruined and take them to the people who have been waiting, apologizing profusely for the delay and the mess.

“Sorry,” I say again.

He’s never ever going to tell me anything if I continue like this. I’m a mess.

The shop is suddenly quiet, making me feel even more humiliated.

After searching for it for five minutes in the back, I find the broom and use it to get rid of the broken glass. I’m drying the chairs with paper towels and at the same time, cleaning the table. I’m like a juggler. The table is a mess and the liquid has gone under so I’m wiping the floor too when I see a piece of paper.

It’s drenched in coffee and juice. I grab it and throw it in the direction of the trash.

Finally managing to clean everything, I go back to the counter to wash the dirty dishes.

From the corner of my eye, I see the paper I tried to throw in the trash landed next to the basket, so I pick it up when I see something written on it.

I don’t think anything of it as I unfold it.

It’s written in pen and it’s now all smudged.

Dear past me,

You’re not crazy. It’s not all in your mind. What’s the worst that can happen? Act like a fool. Be brave. Go to her. Stop her from leaving. Hug her, kiss her and tell her how you feel!

If you don’t…

The next time she sees you, you’ll be nothing but a long-lost memory to her.

The next time you see her, you’ll know letting her go was the biggest mistake of your life.

Someone yanks the piece of paper out of my hand before I get a chance to finish reading.

“This is mine. Thanks,” says Ethan and stuffs the piece of paper in his pocket.