To his great relief, this time Dave managed not to make a sound while coughing coffee into his nose. He reached over to the bright chrome napkin dispenser and pulled out a half dozen or so. "Damn allergies," he muttered, blowing his nose. "Seems like the pollen starts flying earlier every year." He wadded the used napkins into a tight ball and lobbed them over the counter into the waste basket that stood near the gleaming brass and copper cappuccino machine.<br/><br/>"I blame global warming," he added as he extracted a couple more napkins. That done he nudged the dispenser to one side to make room to lay open a small notebook on the counter. It must have been sheer coincidence that the gesture positioned it so that Dean was reflected in its surface.