Disclaimer: This took a bit more than 8 minutes! Also, please forgive my flip-flop between past and present tense. That's what first drafts are for!
My body knew before my mind fully realized it. It was him. As he entered the crowded coffee shop, he kept his hand on the door to let a young woman pass, as any good, kind person would. Only, he wasn't good. He wasn't kind. Was he though? I never really, truly knew. Even if he wasn't then, maybe he's changed in the last 15 years.
They locked eyes as she passed and he sent her off with a smile - god, that smile. I find myself once again questioning my stance on his goodness, his kindness. His attention followed her out the door, trailing from her long, tousled hair down to her pretty, painted toenails. Suddenly, the smile didn't seem like a smile at all, but rather the gradual opening of a mouth before a predator strikes its prey.
No, he is not kind.
I stare hard as he makes his way up to the counter. I recognize the look in the cashier's eyes, the shy, flirtatious glances. Far off in a corner of the shop, I can feel the heat that rises to her cheeks after he casually brushes her fingers as she passes him a hot cup of coffee, the thump of her heartbeat after he thanks her. She's enraptured. He's in control.