Kiosk

He had always suffered from the same problem.

The thing had got him into trouble a number of times. It was a weakness, he supposed. The bottom line was, he could never tell whether a person was being serious or not. He had shown how easily he could be taken in time after time. On this particular occasion, he was on his break. He went to the nearby shopping centre, where the pretty girl in the kiosk brewed a really good coffee. It was a small kiosk that sat in the middle of the main shopping centre walkway. It sold coffee mainly, with a small selection of takeaway food. The girl inside the circular counter worked alone as barista, pie warmer, snack seller, everything.

She is conscious of the man across the aisle, where he sits reading a newspaper, eyeing her constantly. Just looking at him makes her shudder. She has been there for several weeks. She cheers up when she sees one of her regulars approaching. He is really nice, always polite. She knows his regular order and begins to prepare a cappuccino with two sugars to take away. As she does this, she thinks of something…

With a few friendly words between them, she hands him his coffee. With his change she slips a small note into his hand and winks. She then briefly puts a fingertip to her lips. He nods, realising that she can’t say more. He thanks her and walks away. The man with the newspaper watches him go.

Once outside on the street, he unfolds the piece of paper, it reads, ‘Help! I was abducted from my home. They won’t let me out of here. Call the police.’

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