He introduced me, without irony, as the man who makes the best coffee he's ever had. The promise was that I would do the same for the woman accompanying him.
A couple minutes later, she was sipping the result of my efforts, poker face intact. It was good, she said - first to me, and then to the man.
They left, in the way of people who have business to discuss. There was effort to their strides, walking quickly towards something they wanted badly to avoid.
I thought on that drink until the next customer broke my revery, and then again. 'The best' is a moving target, impossible to hit most of the time, even if you know where to aim.
I gazed in to the dark, trying to find my arrow.