The Man in the Trench Coat

Adelaide visited the same café, bright and early every morning. She sat, for the most part, unnoticed, just as she preferred, sipping a cup of coffee and struggling to write her novel on a laptop. And each day, she looked forward to seeing him, the man in the trench coat. He arrived every morning at nine o'clock on the dot, and without fail, he wore the trench coat. He cut quite the impressive figure, handsome and confident in attire and demeanor. He never glanced her way, but from where she sat at a corner table, Adelaide could watch him through half-shuttered lashes. What was beneath the trench coat, she could not help but wonder, her mind running rampant with possibilities.

It had been years since she'd last seen an episode of a sci-fi show, "Highlander", her mum had always watched, but the main character in the series had worn a trench coat. He was an immortal being, only able to die if he was beheaded, so he had carried a gleaming sword beneath the coat, ready to fight for his life and the lives of those he loved. Duncan McLeod, of the Clan McLeod, a handsome, rugged, and fierce Scottish warrior. Adelaide’s mind was filled with dramatic images the memory evoked. Was this man in the trench coat like Duncan, hiding something like a shiny sword beneath his coat to be used to save the day? Probably not since in the ordinary world, that would be a scary thought indeed.

The door’s bell sounded and Adelaide looked up to see him enter. Nine o’clock - right on time. She shifted a bit in her seat, pulling her hair across her face to ensure she wasn't easily seen. She had no desire whatsoever to be noticed, especially while watching him. He was so handsome and the trench coat he wore only added to his allure.

She heard the quiet, indistinguishable murmur of his voice drift across the air as he ordered. Probably his usual, she thought. She imagined he liked an espresso con panna. It was a strong, rich, well-balanced, smooth, delectable coffee with a bit of cream - a heavenly brew. Yes, that would certainly suit him. With the thought, her mind evolved and turned to a strong, well-balanced body clad in a kilt beneath a long trench coat. What an utterly enchanting thought.

There was a loud clatter as someone nearby dropped a plate, and Adelaide was brought out of her fantasy. Though no one knew what she was thinking, embarrassment filled her nonetheless and her face turned a bright shade of red. She stole a quick glance at the counter to find the man was picking up his order and turning to leave. She lowered her head, pretending to read what was not on her laptop, finding comfort in the shield her long hair provided.

Click, click, click….the sound of someone approaching grew louder until Adelaide could see Italian leather shoes directly beside her table. Startled, she looked up to find him. He placed a cup of steaming, hot coffee before her on the table and smiled. It was a glorious smile.

“Good morning. Americano is your drink of choice, is it not?” he said with a wink. “My treat, so please enjoy.”

Ignoring her stunned look of surprise, he turned on his heel to leave, but then abruptly paused and spun back around.

“The name’s Duncan. Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. It’s a pleasure to meet you, lass.”