She wondered as he stepped up to the counter, did he come in to see her or was he just needing an afternoon boost of caffeine?  Maybe he hoped Roxy was working.  Doubts dissipated like smoke when Boris held up a bag and asked if she would to stop by his table when she had a chance.  Why did she always second guess if a guy liked her?  Thinking back, Emily imagined it was sometime in her early teens when an insidious little imp moved in and set up housekeeping somewhere in her brain.  It loved to recite how she wasn’t good, pretty, talented, or smart enough.  Middle school was a long time ago, when she was taller than her classmates, gangly, and clumsy.  Still learning to coordinate the additional inches, she was often teased.  But she was a woman now, with a long list of achievements under her belt, and it was high time to evict the negative influence.  Mentally, she grabbed the demon and stomped down hard on it, leaving Doc Marten tread marks on its broken cadaver.<br/><br/>As a reward for putting her on the spot yet again, Emily deliberately pinched Angela on the ass.  “Boris, as luck would have it, she’s on break right now.”  Stifling a shriek from the quick pain, Angela jumped a little from the unexpected tweak, turning towards her tormentor.  She was astonished and pleased that her pink-haired friend was showing a bit of spunk.  “Why not pour yourself a cup and join him, Emily?”  Angela suggested, rubbing the bruised cheek to ease the throbbing.  Happy to see him and curious what was in the bag, Emily gave a quick smile and made a fresh cappuccino before walking over to join the man in question.  “Hi,” She said sitting opposite him, “it’s good to see you.”  Some of the cafés regulars who witnessed the downfall of Roxy, slowly inched closer, interested in the next chapter of the unfolding drama.