Prompt: Write a piece in which someone asks or is asked a favor

It was a Thursday morning, no different than any other. I had walked the two short blocks to Common Grounds, ordered my regular from Tiffany, and had just stooped down to offer Max a treat from the counter when a young woman walked in.

It had been raining, and she was drenched. She tracked in water, not seeming to notice the eyes on her as she disturbed the peace of the small, quiet space. Her movements were frantic and her eyes, red from lack of sleep or crying, scanned the room before landing on the bathroom door. She rushed to it, ignoring the “customer’s only” sign and sliding inside, closing the door behind her. 

Tiffany and I exchanged a glance.

“Dude, what the fuck?” She rolled her eyes, set down the coffee tamper and made her way to the bathroom door. 

She was a no-nonsense person, sporting a platinum-tipped pixie cut and often wearing cut-off tanks. A CrossFit instructor when she wasn't working barista shifts, I’d seen her wink and brag about her endurance to women she flirted with at the coffee bar. I'd also seen her kick a person or two out of the shop for being rude or rowdy, so I knew she wouldn't back down from the woman who'd just come in.

She pounded the door forcefully.

“Excuse me. Hey. Bathroom is for customers only.” She leaned against the wall as she waited for a response. 

The woman opened the door slowly, tears streaking her face. I could see her better now and suspected she was in her early to mid twenties. Her brown, damp hair fell just past her shoulders and she wore a large, distressed teeshirt over black sweats. It was the kind of outfit someone might sleep in, and in this neighborhood, people walked their dogs in nicer. Her small frame was dwarfed by both the shirt and Tiffany's domineering presence.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. But please. I just need to be here for a little while. Please.”

The bell above the shop door rang. The young women's breath caught and her face drained of color. She slammed the door closed, turning the lock.

My gaze followed where hers had been and I turned to see a man enter, also dripping wet. He was breathing heavily and trying unsuccessfully to appear as though he was not filled with rage. He flashed a forced smile at Tiffany and through clenched teeth said, “I see you’ve met my wife.” 

Tiffany tilted her head to the side, saying nothing. He ran his hand through his wet hair, flicking water toward the ground and took a seat near the door and gathered himself. “I’ll wait here until she finishes.”

I picked at the edge of my coffee sleeve, feeling my chest tighten as Tiffany stepped toward him, shaking her head. “No, I don't think you will. I think you need to leave.”

He sneered at her and looked up. “If this is about buying something, I’ll have a fucking coffee, calm down.”

“No," she said in a measured tone, holding his eye contact and taking another step toward him. "I’ll ask you one more time to leave.”

Tension filled the room and I watched as costumers weighed their own safety, some watching  the exchange while others fixed their vision decidedly on the book or laptop in front of them. The man also glanced around, measuring the number of eyes that watched him. His hands clenched into fits before he released them. 

“Fine. I’ll leave,” he said, standing up and flourishing his arms as he turned toward the door. Tiffany followed him out, watching to make sure he really left before coming back inside.

She walked to the bathroom door and rapped on it lightly.

“Honey, you can come out now. He’s gone.”

My eyes filled with water and my throat tightened as I looked back down at my coffee cup. I hadn’t expected this flood of emotion, but in the wake of the broken tension, relief and grief co-mingled and overtook me.

I knew not everyone was lucky enough to find safety and I let myself fall into a memory I often avoided — lit candles by an apartment door; one hand entwined with my friend's, my other wrapped around a nylon string; tears falling behind my sunglasses as I released the string and watched the yellow balloon grow smaller in the sky.  (—)