The Young Woman, Melinda and an Old Man.

The young mother wiped the counter for the third time this morning and they haven’t even opened the doors yet.  She just needed something to do in hopes that Melinda, her co-worker, would not notice her blood-shot eyes welling up again.  She has grown weary of speculating why he left her.  Why he didn’t want the dreams anymore. Why he didn’t want them anymore.  She had grown weary of wondering what she could have said or what book she could have suggested that might make him love her again.  A book that might snap him out of his slumber and remember why he loved her so much.  She had given up hoping for the miracle of him waking up from the dead and walking out of the tomb to look for her.
She stood up from wiping the lower level behind the counter and rested both her hands on the counter.   Not sure if she was holding herself up or if the counter was the only thing keeping her from falling.  

She jumped when she felt something touch her back, “Who touched me?”
“Who touched me?!  Are you doing okay?” Melinda turned her and saw her eyes.  “Oh, honey. Not again. You have to just get over him and move on.  Don’t let him effect you anymore, he wins every time you get upset.”
She turned away. Not ready to move on and not ready to keep fighting.

Melinda paused and said, “Are you gonna be okay if I open these doors? It’s five after six and Larry is already waiting for his morning coffee.  Can’t keep him waiting.” Melinda tried to lighten the mood shaking her keys as she walked to the front door.  Larry was pretending to not be impatiently waiting for his morning coffee.

“Good morning!” Larry said, “Nice day out there!”
“Don’t start with me Larry. You and I both know it is cold and windy out there!” Melinda enjoyed the banter.
“Alright, just give me some coffee then.” Larry conceded.
“That’s more like it, Larry. That’s the spirit.” Melinda happy with the results.
Larry did his best, which wasn’t that great,  not to watch her as she walked back to the counter and pour his coffee.  “Where’s your little buddy?”  Larry tried to pretend he wasn’t paying attention to Melinda’s sophisticated beauty.  
“She’s probably beating herself senseless in the back.”
“Is she still hung up on that loser?  He better not come around here, I’ll tear him up!”
Melinda looked back at him over her glasses, handing him his coffee.
“I may be 78, but I still got it!” Larry said, showing her his karate hands.
“Why do men over in their 70’s always have to talk about how old they are?”
“Huh?!” Larry said, thoroughly confused by the change in topic.