OLD MITCH

I met Mitch fifteen years ago at a coffee shop.

I was sixteen, working as a store assistant and trying to look like I had my life together.

I still remember what I wore that day.

A faded white sundress scattered with tiny yellow flowers. Sandals laced around my ankles.

Mitch was standing in line ahead of me, ordering oat milk and caramel drizzle.

He stood out without trying—tall, broad-shouldered, and he smelled so nice too.

I suddenly became aware of myself. My dress. My hair. The way I was standing.

When he finally turned, I was blown away by his handsomeness—I couldn't help but stare.

Because I didn't move, he walked straight into me.

His coffee tilted, and I jumped back just in time.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” he said quickly, reaching for napkins.

Then his eyes met mine.

And for a second… everything else faded.

They were blue. Icy, bright, almost like an artwork. The kind of eyes that made you pause and wonder if they were real.

“Did I spill any on you?”

I shook my head, my cheeks already warming.

“You almost baptized me, sir,” I said with a nervous laugh, brushing my hair back. “But I’m fine.”

That made him laugh.

And something about that moment… shifted.

“Please don’t call me sir,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I might be tall, but I’m still a teenager.”

“A teenager?” I echoed, confused.

“I’m nineteen.”

I blinked, surprised. He didn’t look it.

“Wow...”

He smiled at that—like he was used to the reaction.

“I should at least buy you a coffee to make up for that.”

I lifted my hands quickly.

“No, really, it’s fine—”

“I insist.”

It wasn’t forceful. He was so gentle I couldn't help but feel butterflies in my tummy.

And when I looked at him again, something in my chest softened.

“…Okay,” I murmured.

He bought me an extra coffee and a muffin.

“Can I steal a minute of your time?” he asked.

My boss was waiting.

But… I didn’t know when I’d ever see him again.

I glanced toward the store, then back at him—and nodded.

We found a small table and sat down.

“I know you probably hear this all the time,” he said, “but you’re really beautiful.”

I choked on my drink.

“I’m so sorry,” he said quickly, leaning forward. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yes,” I managed, avoiding his eyes, completely embarrassed.

The truth was… I didn’t hear things like that. Not from men like him.

Someone like him... what could he possibly see in me?

“People usually just say I’m too thin,” I admitted, gesturing vaguely at myself. “Like… sickly thin.”

He frowned slightly.

“Well,” he said softly, “I don't see anything wrong with you."

My chest tightened.

“Don’t let anyone make you feel like you need to change. You should be proud and confident,they are probably jealous of your body. In fact I think you are very attractive".

Something warm spread through me at that statement.

Coming from someone who looks like him made it unbelievable yet wholesome.

My cheeks burned again this time so much I couldn't bear it.

I stood up suddenly, my face burning. “I’m sorry—I have to go. My boss is waiting.”

I left before he could say anything else. Before he could even ask my name.

And the entire day, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

About his smile, his eyes, his voice.

The way he had looked at me.

I even daydreamed about us starting a family.

___

I smiled sadly at the memory and brushed off my tears.

There were things to do. Work to prepare for.