ASHA demanded that I would start working immediately and I was more than willing.

It was around two in the afternoon and I wasn't eager to go back to the shelter. I needed to familiarize myself with the new job as soon as I could. There was so much to learn.

It turned out that little Asha was only a couple of months younger than me - An exchange student from India, studying both Fashion Design and Fine Art. Her parents had insisted that she'd stay with her widowed aunt, here in New York City, and she seemed to forget that human beings were capable of closing their mouths for longer than ten seconds!

To say she was 'chatty' would be an understatement. Talkative people usually annoyed me, but, to my surprise, I didn't mind her chatter. Asha's ability to carry on a nonstop, one-sided conversation was a nice distraction from my own problems. She was informative. Didn't ask personal questions. Didn't expect responses. She had an adorable, childlike voice and her communication preferences suited me just fine.

So while Asha showed me the ropes around the place, she all but told me her life story. She told me about her protective mom and how she'd managed to convince her she wanted to study abroad. She mentioned having a little brother, and a father who'd passed away when she was six. She gushed about her obsession with comic books. Superman was her all time crush.

I felt something good about her. Something other and better than everyone I knew, including myself. She was open and perky and unafraid to speak her mind. I was shy and dull and insecure. She had a rich tan skin, beautiful dark eyes, and a long, ebony hair to die for. I was pale, my eyes dead blue, and my self-cropped hair matted and sticking right to the back of my neck. Asha was my opposite on all accounts.

Occasionally, though, she got more practical and filled me in about the workplace. She showed me the kitchen and introduced me to the chief and the waitress. We only had one waitress, Susie, who worked extra hours to support her family. She talked about the cafe menu and its special Indian treats, the kitchen sink that needed plumbing, the pretty signboard outside that she had painted herself.  Apparently, the lovely lady in the painting was her aunt, Mrs. Chandra Charan herself.

I was anxious that I hadn't met the owner yet. I worried that she might not approve of me and that, quite possibly, I might get discarded again, but Asha assured me that her aunt trusted her. I wanted to believe that, although the fear and doubt loitered in the back of my mind.

Persisting to keep up with Asha, I observed her super speed handling the coffee machine and the customers at the front counter, plus the pour of words leaking through her lips. She was so good. She could do everything at once. I'd accidentally burn the place down if I tried. But I was getting better each time I took my turn to brew another espresso shot.

Clients dropped by at a moderate pace that was good enough to call the place a successful business. Most of them ordered their drinks to-go, which was good for our lone waitress. Hiding behind the gigantic coffee machine, I was adjusting to my new workspace at the corner of the counter. The concealed spot made me feel comfortably invisible. Safe, in a way.

In the middle of steaming some milk for a mocha latte, I caught Asha jittering and twirling her dark, Rapunzel-ish ponytail.

"Omigosh! Omigosh! Omigosh!" Asha repeated under her breath, bouncing closer to me. "Omigosh! He's back!"

"Who's back?" I whispered, puzzled about her over-excitement.

Peeking around, I tried to catch a glimpse of who that person might be, but I only saw the top of his head - neat, cocoa hair, towering above the coffee grinder.

Asha skidded back to her position, flashing a mile-long grin that deepened her dimples.

As I got distracted, the magic wand slipped from the milk pitcher and scalded the back of my hand.

"Ouch! Sweet potatoes!" I exclaimed and covered my mouth with my hand.

Snap! Was that too loud?

"Good afternoon. Can I have my usual order, please?" a masculine tenor asked politely.

"Good afternoon, indeed! Well, of course you can," Asha chippered. "Welcome back to C.C Cafe."

His answering chuckle was pleasing to the ear. "Thank you," he said.

I had to refocus my attention away from him in order to finish making the latte. The burn on my hand was hurting like hell.

"You have sweet potato pie? I think... I heard you say that?" he inquired.

I groaned internally, feeling a rush of heat climbing over my cheeks. 

He'd heard me! I'd managed to embarrass myself on my first day here!

Asha snickered. "Sorry. We're out of pie. But we have delicious blueberry cheese cake, chocolate chip cookies, chocolate muffins, and Balushahi. It's the Indian version of doughnuts. I highly recommend it," Asha went on with too much enthusiasm.

"I'll just have the usual, thank you, " the polite voice replied.

"A cappuccino and a grilled cheese sandwich, right?" Asha asked.

"Right."

"I will add a piece of Balushahi. On the house. Just a welcome back treat," Asha offered. She stood on her tiptoes like a ballerina, grabbing the edge of the countertop, trying to look taller, I guessed.

The guy thanked her again and I heard his footsteps walking away.

I finished the latte and placed it on the counter for Susie, then I cleaned up the splatter and began to examine my injury. It wasn't as bad as it felt. Just a small pink patch on the base of my thumb. 'The wand chooses the wizard' indeed!

"Squee! Did you see him?" Asha whisper-squealed, fanning her face. Then she gasped as she remembered. "Oh, shoot! Wait! Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," I assured her, ignoring the pain. "Who's he?"

"Clark Kent," she confided, wide eyed. "He's my secret Superman. So secret even he doesn't know it. Gosh, did you hear him say 'good afternoon' and 'thank you' and 'please' all in the same conversation? Guys don't say that anymore!"

I smiled at her theatrical attitude. Her hands were clasped against her heart, her eyes dreamy and bright. She looked like a smitten, cartoon character. Only those little hearts weren't popping out of her eyes.

"I bet he stands when a lady enters the room and opens the door for her," I joked, blowing lightly on the throbbing burn.

"No kidding, he does! He opens the doors, he lets the ladies pass first, even bows sometimes. He does everything right, I wonder why he always comes alone." Her large eyes wandered, playing with a strand of her hair. "I think he's shy around girls. He doesn't keep much eye contact."

My eyes widened. "How'd you know all that? Are you stalking him?" She didn't seem like a stalker to me. She wouldn't cut it. But she sure was having a serious crush.

"Well, excuse me for looking out for my clients, unlike someone I just met." She poked her tongue at me, then she grabbed a porcelain cup and started making his cappuccino. "I just watch from afar, ok? He's such an eye candy, in a good way, of course. He's quite modest, by the way, and I'm not throwing myself at him. Not my style. I'm just admiring God's beautiful creation."

"Seriously, how do you do that?" I asked, distracted by the way she brewed the coffee, frothed the milk, and wiped everything clean at the same time while chatting with me.

She rolled her eyes. "Months and months of practice. Now, back to Clark." She didn't seem to like interrupting her crush-induced gossip. "Okay, you won't believe this one. I watched as a couple of girls tried to hit on him, well, I understand 'cause he's so good-looking, but he turned them both down. Ohmygosh, I felt so bad for him! He was about to cut and run!" She shook the hot milk expertly and poured it with graceful motions over the espresso shot, creating a perfect heart shape with the foam. My eyes popped, recording what she was doing. Curious about the story, as well.

"Maybe he's married, or engaged or… you know, a robot." I suppressed a smile as she picked his free treat from the tray and placed it on a serving plate.

"Give me some credit, Sherlock, he's not wearing a ring. And robots don't like coffee." Asha toasted the sandwich, assembled the order and finally handed it over to Susie, who looked painfully annoyed with us.

"Care to have a look-see?" Asha motioned her curled finger at me. "There's a teensy crack between the coffee machine and the grinder. Susie's your compass."

She pulled me by the arm towards the thin opening between the two gadgets. I could see all the tables stretching ahead.

A surge of adrenaline ran through my body. I felt dumb to be so thrilled over something so childish. I was peeping from a secret lair. Safe. Unseen. Just like how I'd felt hiding in the closet when I was a kid. But this time I wasn't scared. My heartbeat escalated in anticipation.

"He's right there," Asha cooed, her head next to mine. "Last table by the wall. That's his favorite."

Susie was blocking the view as she shambled ahead to serve him. I started biting the tip of my thumb.

Why was I feeling anxious right now? It didn't make sense!

It was like one of those slow motion moments in a movie before the lead character made the first appearance. But real life was much, much slower.

"Move, Susie, move," I mumbled, leaning closer to the makeshift surveillance window.

Asha giggled.

Finally, Susie swerved to a side so she could place the order on Clark's table.

And then my eyes fell on him for the first time.