Lars rinsed his face grabbed a pair of grey joggers and a black hoodie.

He went out and clicked open the RAV4 he rented. He climbed in and programmed the GPS for the Parkview police station. Lars didn't have the exact address, but he thought he would remember the route he took that day.

Almost a month had passed since the nightclub incident.

Still, the dancer lurked in his dreams, and the coffee haunted his taste buds. Two supposedly irrelevant elements took turns to play on his thoughts.

Lars saw it as a good sign if he could focus on such things; it meant he was in a better place mentally.

Rain fell, and it was under battering drops that Lars pulled up across from the truck.

"Shit," he muttered as he rummaged through the glove box for a mini umbrella that wasn't there.

The man put on his hood and prepared himself to run under the rain when he got a sudden spark of inspiration concerning the umbrella's whereabouts. He looked under his seat while hoping for a miracle.

The universe was on his side as he felt the umbrella fibers. He tugged on what he grasped, "thank goodness."

Lars stepped out and went to join the queue. Unbelievable, thought the man. It was 6:30 am, and there were already at least fifteen people in front of him.

Inside the truck, Thulile hurried, Palesa ran late. Despite the suffering she came to work, the woman didn't even have the luxury to tend to the bruises Kungawo inflicted on her. Changing the locks to the house did nothing; the man would bust a window to enter.

Thulile hoped he would not come back too soon. The price he took would allow him to live for a while, which meant peace for the woman.

The truck door opened, "sorry, sister, my little one is teething."

"No problem, please take the orders."

Palesa's stare blocked on Thulile's face.

"Child, who did this to you?"

Thulile kissed her teeth, "ah, forget it."

Palesa placed her hands on her hips, "It's Kungawo, isn't it?"

"Palesa, please take the orders."

The older woman understood Thulile didn't wish to speak of the incident. She began to do as asked, and the line moved quickly to Lars' contempt.

"Thulile, I need to pee. The sound of the rain is pushing it out."

Thulile rolled her eyes as if things weren't difficult enough for her. She replaced the black Huf face mask she wore to hide her swollen cheek and turned to the counter.

"Eh, I'll haveㅡ," Lars stopped.

Like in the nightclub, their gazes froze. A New Era cap replaced the bucket hat, and there was the face mask, but the eyes, Lars was sure as his mind juxtaposed the images.

"Eh, ㅡem, twoㅡtwo, coffees Lars stammered.

"You'll have to wait for the snacks."

Her voice, the man thought. Lars nodded; the man didn't even realize his mouth was still slightly agape.

He could not believe he met her in the immensity of Johannesburg without even having to search.

Lars frowned at his thought. Did he unconsciously wish to find her?

Something was off; it seemed she couldn't open one eye properly. The woman already had small eyes, and Lars wondered if she even saw him.

He hurried to take off his hood before wiping his hands on his joggers. Sweaty palms, the situation was surreal.

Embarrassed by her appearance, Thulile pushed her cap down and turned. Her heart exploded.

Why?

The woman only remembered two details of the man at the club, his height, and eyes. She knew they were bright, but their blue was mesmerizing. Aqua or celeste? Their color was hard to distill.

Thulile began to make the coffees, too many words bustled in her mind, and for the first time, her hands trembled.

"Focus, focus," she muttered.

She could almost feel his stare on her back. Thulile closed her eyes and tried to regain her composure.

"Ahh, phew, I was going to become a fountain," Palesa said as she pulled the truck door close and went to regain her spot at the counter.

Thulile finished Lars' coffees. One wasn't for him; she wrote the word quickly. Lars' cup was an issue. Thulile was unable to sort her thoughts. She finally settled for two terms. It was a first; her father always told her she would never have more than one word on one cup. Giving people more than one goal diminished their chances of success. Yet Thulile knew she needed to write both. The woman could not imagine it was the man's Libra aura that swayed and influenced her reading.

She whispered the instructions to Palesa, who went to the counter.

"This one is for your friend. He'll need to warm it for twenty seconds; otherwise, it will taste funny. This one is yours; you can heat it for thirty seconds."

Lars nodded while he tried to look behind her, but Palesa made sure he had blind spots.

"Did you hear? The black lid is his, and the white lid is yours."

"Yes, how much do I owe you?"

"R60.00 for the coffee and R80.00 for the dumplings."

"I didn't ask for dumplings."

Palesa smiled and repeated. For the man, he already lost the battle.

Lars paid, "can I have a coffee holder?"

Palesa cocked a brow and clapped in her hand, "Ha, Mista,ㅡ."

"Okay, I get it," Lars didn't insist the people in the queue were getting impatient.

"Thank you," he yelled to Thulile's intent. She didn't turn back once after taking his order. The man was almost disappointed.

Now he faced another dilemma. He was sure to spill his cups if he drove. The rain still fell hard. Lars couldn't hold the coffee and the umbrella at the same time.

He walked fast and stopped at the first cafe.

"Hi, can I have two Americanos to go?"

The man at the counter looked down at his hands before saying, "sure."

"Eh, can I have a coffee holder too, please?"

"Sure," of course, the man gave him a two-cup holder and smiled as if to say, don't-even-try-asking-for-a-four-spaced.

Lars didn't insist.

Instead, he went to the table closest to the door and posed Thulile's coffees. He then stepped outside and threw the Americanos in the drains in front of the cafe. Lars then came back in, put the cups in the appropriate recycling bin, and placed Thulile's coffee in the holder in front of the shocked staff.

"I bet he came from the truck," whispered a girl to the man at the till.

Thuile's van was stiff competition for the cafés around. Crazy stories circulated of jobless people finding employment, kids getting diplomas when all thought they were doomed to fail, even people winning lotteries.

Lars walked back to his car and carefully placed the coffees between the two front seats. He drove steadily; he wasn't in a rush. The man had the impression of having accomplished something great when he arrived.

He hurried to the kitchen stuck a post-it on Steven's cup with twenty sec in the microwave written on it. He drew two hearts; it was their private joke as it wasn't rare people thought they were a gay couple.

Lars then heated his cup and went to the living room to drink it on the couch. The coffee was warm, but the sensation was a refreshing one.

Lars drank it to the last drop a turned the cup.

His eyelids were heavy, and he felt sleepy. That's when his eyes fell upon the word SLEEP, and the man closed his eyes.

Steven leaned and breathed into Lars' ear, "rise and shine, sleeping beauty."

Startled, Lars jolted up.

"Man, till what time are you going to sleep?"

"Why, what time is it?" Lars said while wiping his eye.

"It's almost noon."

"What? It's impossible."

"Thanks for the hangover coffee. I would have died without it."

"What hangover?"

"I got drunk last night, and you wrote hangover on the cup."

"Really."

"Yeah, by the way, Dalai told me to tell you he feels neglected. I told him you had the stomach flu."

Lars appreciated the cover-up but wished his friend had chosen another illness, "okay, thanks."

His thoughts quickly went back to the inscriptions. It wasn't a coincidence the words were there for the drinker's intent.

Lars looked at his cup instead of sleep. It was good morning written on it.

"Did you write this?"

"No."

Lars turned the cup SLEEP was written on one side and Goodmorning on the other.

What did it mean?

He felt the drowsiness overtake him when he drank, and now he woke up appeased and revigorated.

Was the good morning from her to him, or was she indicating the morning would be a good one?

The answer came with the sound of his ring tone.

Lars frowned at the name displayed on the screen.

"Hi, Lars."

"Elsa, wow," the man was speechless of all the people he didn't expect her to call. Apart from Joshua, who was aware of his whereabouts, none of his siblings sought to check whether he was alive.

Elsa's call, no matter the message she had for him, hit him hard.

"Joshua told me where you are and about your passport."

Damn you, Joshua, thought the man. His family already underestimated him, and here they had one more incident to add to their grievances.

"Guess everyone knows," Lars got up and walked to the sliding doors that gave way to the pool.

"No, they don't. Joshua only told me. Klara, Ulrich, and Jonas don't know."

"So, is that why you're calling? Thanks for your solicitude, but it was like a month ago."

"Lars, we're all worried about you."

"Really? But you're the only one calling."

The man boiled, he was a victim of circumstances too, but all saw him as a villain.

At the other end of the phone, Elsa lifted her eyes to the ceiling. They had only spoken a few minutes, and already the woman felt a surge of exasperation. Lars hadn't changed.

"Lars, Marine is pregnant."

"What?"

"Yes, we've been trying for over a year, and it finally worked."

"Oh, wow, Elsa, I don't know what to say. Congratulations," the man said as he began to walk around the pool.

His sister had always wanted children, and her girlfriend desired to carry them. He imagined what happy moment the women were living as they spoke.

"I am over the moon; I wanted to share the news with you."

"Why?"

"Lars, please, you're my brother. You did things that hurt the family; you couldn't expect us to just let everything pass. Jonas, Sierra, Leone all were so wounded. It will take time for them to reconstruct."

The man wished to yell, I, too, need time to reconstruct. Trials, accusations, and jail, Lars still had the stigmas.

"I guess Jonas still hates me."

"No, lars, you know he isn't like that. He was so sad when you left."

"He banished me and gave Ulrich the seat I worked hard for."

"Lars, I'm sorry. I didn't call to go through a recap of all those episodes. I wished to tell my brother he was becoming an uncle and that I wanted him to be there for the birth."

"Elsa."

"I can't force you to come back, but I want you to know no matter your thoughts, you'll always be a Pottsmann."

Simple words, but like Lars' morning coffee, they refreshed and recharged the man's heart.

They talked for a few more minutes before hanging up.

Elsa made him promise to call, and the man went back inside.

"Wow, that was long."

"It was Elsa. She's having a baby."

"Wow, your family doesn't mess about when it comes to kids. When is it your turn?"

"Hahaha, you're hilarious, Steven."

Steven smiled and shrugged, "just saying. I thought you weren't talking, by the way."

"So did I," Lars said while his face mustered his astounded expression. His eyes turned to his cup.

Good morning.

It was definitely a good one.

The coffee was exquisite, but there was something special about the girl who made it, and the man felt invested with the mission to find out what it was.