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As much time as I’ve spent working as a volunteer humanitarian aid, there are still aspects of running a non-profit organization that are unfamiliar to me. I’ll take any guidance I can get, and I’ve struggled to find someone to give me straightforward answers.
“Good news?” Sage’s eyebrows are high on her forehead, a plate in her hand.
“Great news.” I nod, taking the plate from her. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
With renewed motivation, I focus on work way after finishing my cup of coffee and wrap. Needing some more fuel, I stand and order another coffee.
“You’ve been completely in the zone there.” Sage’s eyes widen, a pen in her hand.
“Yeah. I’ve needed a day like this to focus.”
“What do you do?” She shifts on her feet.
“I’m working on opening a non-profit organization,” I say proudly.
“Really?” Her head inches back, and her eyes look me up and down, assessing me. “What for?”
“I plan to team up with orphanages and offer them playgrounds and arts and sports programs. I believe play and creativity are a huge part of child development, and these kids don’t have the opportunity.” Energy vibrates inside of me with purpose.
My heart beats to a different tune when I talk about this, as if it’s drumming along with the passion vibrating inside of me.
“Besides that, I want to offer relief work during catastrophes. I know different organizations do the same, but I want to be a part of that.” I could get wrapped up in this topic for hours.
Sage stares at me with wide eyes and a small smile.
“And here I thought you were some lazy coffee-drinking hipster.” Her voice holds a teasing tone.
My hand lands on my chest with a loud thud.
“You wound me.” I look down at my clothes, searching for what gave her that idea.
“It’s the beard.” She points at me with the pen.
“And here I thought it made me look like a real man,” I tease.
Her eyes briefly widen, and she looks down.
“I guess it does.” She shakes her head. “Your coffee will be ready in a few.”
Is it just me, or is she blushing?
“Thanks, no rush. I may just have to stay here until closing.” I wink.
She looks at me over her shoulder with furrowed brows. “Are you serious?”
“I don’t know. The day is young.”
“Actually, it’s already three p.m.” She tilts her head.
“Really?” I look around in search of a clock, but there isn’t one in the coffee shop. How can a coffee shop not have a clock? Isn’t that part of the coffee shop charter? “Why isn’t there a clock in here?”
“I don’t know, but you realize your laptop’s in front of you, right?” She taps my screen with her teal-colored nails.
“Right. Would you look at that? My laptop has a clock,” I look up and catch her wide smile.
“Yup,” she laughs.
