Late to the cafe where Dana waited by the window

Late to the cafe where Dana waited by the window

I was late getting to the cafe where I was supposed to meet my coworker Dana, the one I keep almost texting after hours. The street outside my apartment had turned into the hallway at work, longer than it should be, and I couldn't find my phone to tell her I was coming. When I finally got there she was already at a table by the window, but the place looked half like the cafe and half like the break room. She smiled like she was glad, then said something I couldn't quite hear over the espresso machine. I sat down and my chair was too close to hers. I wanted to say I'd been thinking about Friday, when we walked to the train together, but instead I asked if she'd seen my keys. She put her hand on mine for a second and it felt like relief and embarrassment at the same time. Then the barista called a name that wasn't either of ours and I woke up still trying to answer her.