Look at him. He’s gorgeous. And now, look at her – slim, blonde, elegant – and he’s all over her, begging eyes, like a dog that wants a biscuit. Makes me sick.
Cappuccino and carrot cake for him? Black coffee for her? Worried about her figure, obviously. It’s all right – I’ll serve them, I say.
“Two coffees, and one cake”.
I set it down in front of him. He doesn’t even look at me. Not until the first mouthful, and then he looks around, and meets my eyes.
She doesn’t stand a chance.
99 words for the Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge. Carrot cake.