My most recent submission to my short story series, The Gulmohur Tales.
Abdullah Rasheed stepped off the quaint cobblestone pavement and entered the coffee shop. At thirty-two, he was an attractive man with large, caring eyes, a prominent nose, and a headful of wavy brown hair. His lips blended into ruddy cheeks in an ever-present smile. A lean and muscular frame showed through the snug apparel he wore, topped by a bright orange Cashmere sweater and a tan sports jacket – attire that a certain brand of confident yuppie specializes in pulling off without even trying.
That he was planning to blow himself up in a few minutes and take out the entire ground floor of a Chicago downtown skyscraper was not a thing betrayed by his boyish demeanor.
He flashed a friendly smile at the barista behind the counter, oozing warmth that rivaled her best latte. She reciprocated with a shy smile and shouted the order down to an apprentice who got to work right away.
Abdullah sauntered over to a booth meant for two and set down his latte. He scanned the spacious restaurant with an easy manner, taking in the faces of its happy Thursday patrons. A steady stream of customers continued to flow in. He glanced down at his watch.
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