The fluorescent lights in the coffee shop reflect off the sheen of your new laptop which you've just spilled a latte all over. I awkwardly stand behind my chair, frozen in an attempt to decide if I should just turn on the espresso machine to clean up the mess or grab a towel from the kitchen. As you delicately pry open your laptop to assess its damaged fate, our gazes momentarily meet and both our faces contort with equal panic and a hint of embarrassment. It's 8 AM, I still haven't said a word and our date hasn't even officially started.
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