Lars got up early, threw on the first sweatpants, sweater, and tee he saw. Too excited, he hurried to his car, realized he still had his slippers, went back inside, put on his sneakers, and went out to his car. When he arrived, the truck trap window wasn't even open; he knocked on it.

"Excuse, is anyone there?"

Palesa opened, "we're not open yet."

"Is she there? I need to speak to her."

Thulile came to the front, "how can I help you?" she asked the way she used to when she worked fried chicken franchise.

Never had Thulile seen the man as ecstatic as he was then. His smile stretched so far it could slice his ears.

"I need you," Lars blurted.

Thulile's eyes widened before closing down to their usual slit, "pardon."

The woman's heart bounced on and off her rib cage like a basketball, and Palesa's eyes blinked more times than one could exclaim hayibo! [unbelievable].

"You and I, we're meant to make coffee together. It's the opportunity. Let's start a business."

Crows cawed in both Thulile's and Palsea's minds.

The window trap closed on Lars' face

"Hey, is it a yes or a no?"

Lars heard a slamming door; the man knocked again, "hey."

A tap on his back made him turn.

"The answer is no."

Lars blinked to regain his senses. He couldn't believe Thulile came out though more adequate considering the situation, "why say no? You haven't even given me the chance to explain."

"I can't make coffee for masses."

"Why because of your predictions? You don't need to do that. Your coffee is delicious even without it. The fortune forecast is a plus, as a paper in a Chinese cookie. What I'm interested in are the blends you make."

"I said, I can't."

"Why?"

"They're not recipes."

Lars frowned," what do you mean?"

"I don't calculate quantities and stuff."

"Got you, it doesn't matter. I'll do that; you can make the coffee. I'll take notes. Listen," the man posed his hands on her shoulders and withdrew them when he saw her dark stare.

"Sorry, as I was saying, your coffee is fantastic. It's better than any I've tasted in my entire existence. I guess it's not something you learned professionally, but I can help you with that. We could open up a coffee shop like the ones further down and whiplash them with your coffees. I'm an investor, I love challenges, and I believe we can do it."

"No, you listen. I've met people like you before, and it's always a scam. I refuse."

"Why, do you have some type of code in the African sorceress book telling you it's forbidden?"

Thulile kissed her teeth and waved him off, "I don't have time for this. It's not some kind of black magic; I can't. Besides, I don't know you." Thulile turned to walk away.

"Make me a cup. You probably have one of the greatest lie detectors on earth. If I'm lying, the coffee will tell, won't it?"

Lars guessed if she could read good intentions, she could also see the bad. The question of what the woman did when she saw something terrible intrigued him.

Thulile turned around "why do you want to do this. Don't you have some other sort of ambition? I mean, the African witch that I am might gobble you alive."

Lars stepped up to her, "I feel it's something I have to do. You and I, I mean we can help each other somehow. I didn't have a goal, but I do now. Don't worry, I'm not very digestible, and no offense but you are no way as scary as Karaba in Kirikou and the sorceress."

Yes, Lars was the man with the flat puns that oozed out and made a flop like a silent fart.

Thulile poked her head and glared up; her lips became crooked, "who says I need help?"

"Eyes don't lie."

Again Lars stared straight into hers. What they saw scared them; still, none looked away, "make me a cup. The coffee will tell you if I'm a scam."

The queue had built up by then Thulile had to go inside anyway.

"I'll wait here," Lars stood on the side.

Some regulars gave him a nod to say hello as they recognized him. He seemed to be one of the rare white customers to go there, and the black, West, and Eastern Asians wondered what issues he had to be there.

Thulile and Palesa served customers until the office's opened and the line went down. To their surprise, Lars neither threw a fit for making him wait nor complained. He just stepped up to the van and said, "I guess it's my turn."

The woman began to make his cup. Thulile knew he watched; she couldn't cheat on the words, her heart rate raced like Lewis Hamilton's Formula One. The terms multiplied; one made her grimace. Though two merited the spot on the carton, she wrote one and placed the cup on the counter.

Lars turned the cup right away, "see, it's a sign. Wait a minute, where's the other word?"

"There's no other."

"You're a bad liar," Lars said.

Thulile slid her eyes to the left, "I'm not lying."

"Listen, I lied my way through life enough to recognize when someone is playing me."

Thulile crossed her arms and lifted an inquisitive brow, "do you think that type of confession will make me trust you?"

"Yes, because I'm willing to tell something as embarrassing as that."

Lars stopped; how could he say such of thing to a stranger?

The man shrugged it off; it wasn't as though pride choked him at that instant, "anyway, I won't lie to you. So please don't do it to me."

The man's frankness took both Thulile and Palesa, who observed of the guard.

Palesa leaned her head out, "Mistaa, don't you think you're words are a little borderline here? Like who areㅡ."

"Palesa, please, he's right. There's another one," Thulile took out her marker and wrote. Her hand shook as it resisted writing the third word that yearned to appear on his cup.

Thulile imagined how shocked the man would be if she were to unleash it. She couldn't bear it herself. The second word was enough.

Coffee.

Challenge.

"That's more like it, so what do you say?" Lars said with enthusiasm.

"I'll think about it," Thulile backed away. Lars heard the door slam again, and she was out with her shoulder bag this time.

Lars noted it was a little Chloe bag. Perhaps she wasn't as poor as he imagined. The bag was one of the rare ones to have escaped Kungawo's snatching habit, but also one of Thulile's favorites since it was the first bag Elije bought her after their first argument.

The man always compensated with gifts, but it bothered Thulile to think every gift was to say sorry. The fallout began when Thulile stopped high school after her mother's death, and the difference in their background became more visible.

"Finished?" Lars asked as he followed Thulile's steps.

"No."

"Going somewhere then?"

"I have an errand to run."

"Errand, for what?"

"One of my grinders is broken. I need a piece to have it repaired and coffee."

Thulile didn't even ponder on why she told him.

"So, where are you going?"

How could she walk so fast? Thought Lars, who almost jogged alongside her.

"The market is on the other side of Joburg."

"Oh, perhaps I can drop you off?"

Thulile stopped to eye him up and down. He looked like someone who got scammed on the regular while seeming like a swindler himself.

What side of his personality couldn't seize?

"So what do you say? My car is over there."

Lars pointed at his car, Thulile followed with her gaze.

"We'll be back here in no time. You won't miss any customers."

"Listen, I don't know you andㅡ."

"My name is Lars, Lars Potsmann; I'm Swedish. Oh wait, can you hold thisㅡ."

Lars gave Thulile his coffee without waiting for her response and left her in front of the act's accomplishment. He ran to his car and came back a minute later, "you have my name and phone number there. If you don't come back, your friend can give this to the police. Tell her to hold it."

Thulile looked at the piece of paper, the market was far, and though she didn't know him, her sixth sense told her it was okay. She gave his coffee back to Lars and hurried to leave the note with Palesa. Thulile then came back and got in his car, "aren't you going to drink that? It's at the right temperature now."

"Eh, yeah," Lars popped off the lid and drank. He took big gulps, and Thulile tried not to look at him or the movement of his Adam's apple as he drank.

The man widened the eye closest to Thulile while holding his cup to take another gulp, "is something wrong?"

He had a deep voice, but he managed a lot of variations. It could be high-pitched, but there it was subtle.

Thulile gulped, "em, nothing."

"You need to put on your seat belt."

Thulile proceeded to do so.

Lars turned to face her, "do you have an address for me? I'll set it up on a GPS."

"Yes, it's at Maboneng market."

Lars began to enter the address and deposited the GPS on its fixture." It's far from here."

"If you can't take me, I understand," Thulile grasped the door handle, ready to leave.

"No," Lars rushed to say while grasping her wrist, "it's just the back and forth would have eaten up your day." Thulile looked down at her wrist. Lars instantly let go and turned his gaze away.

The man was very tactile; he had already touched her twice. Lars didn't even realize the liberties he took.

"By the way, what's your name?"

Lars observed Thulile's hesitant reaction, but also the thin two-strand twists poking out of her hat.

Why did she hide her face so much? She gave off the impression of someone hiding from something she feared.

"My name is Thulile."

"Tchu-Li-Le."

Thulile frowned; she never thought her name was complicated until that instant.

"It's a little more Hu in Thu and not Tch.

Lars tried to pronounce again.

Thulile smiled, "yeah, it's somethin' like that."