I was so excited about the prospect of having lunch with Steve, I could handle anything that came my way.
I called Jenn, asked her if she wanted some extra hours, which she did, and then opened the coffee house.
The stream of customers was steady and some people had to wait because it was just me until Jenn got there, but everyone was friendly and patient, even new people who would normally be less understanding of staff problems.
"I brought flowers!" she said, walking behind the counter with a colorful bouquet that she'd cut from her garden.
After we cruised through the line of customers, Jenn filled a dozen glasses with water, put flowers in each of them and we set one at every table.
"I love Thai food," said Steve. "This restaurant makes the food so hot, your nose will run."
"I'm a bit of a baby when it comes to really spicy food," I said, looking at the red, milky soup in the bowl before me. Roasted chilies were bobbing in it like little mouth-burning submarines.
"It's good for you! Come on." Steve dipped a large soup spoon into my bowl, blew on it briefly to cool it and held it towards me. "Countries that eat a lot of chilies have lower incidents of stomach cancer. You can't argue with that."
I took the spoon into my mouth, let the soup spread over my tongue and down into my throat. It was a mix of flavors, like most Thai food; sweet, a little bitter. I tasted lemon grass, mushrooms, small pieces of chicken. I watched Steve devour his bowl as mine did a slow sizzle inside me. It was delicious. 
