“Sometimes it helped to put herself in a crowd. Even if the people were mostly strangers, she still liked having someone close by.
But not this close.”
– from “The Interruption”
I never know what will come from sitting down with a friend, let alone from encountering a stranger. People invariably surprise me. Any given moment may turn out to be a fight or a dance, an inconvenience or a gift. Some moments may be all of the above, and how I think through that complexity of any given moment has felt increasingly important to me over the years.
“The Interruption” captures one of those complex moments.
This story came, in part, out of my reading Stephen King’s short story “The Fifth Step.” Horror isn’t my genre. On the contrary, my stories have more of a “cozy” feel no matter what genre I’m dabbling with. But I appreciated how King’s “The Fifth Step” captured the sometimes-bewildering journey of encountering a stranger, and I imagined writing a “cozy” story that teased out similar grains of truth. So, I turned to the fictional world of my Sacred Grounds series and gave it a try.
Here’s the result. Read on for my short story “The Interruption,” which was awarded First Place in Prose by The Polk Street Review 2026. Or, for the audio version of me narrating this story, click the Youtube video below.
The Interruption
A Sacred Grounds Short Story
By Callie J. Smith
She didn’t know what he wanted.
The white-haired man was pulling back a chair at her table. He set down his coffee cup and two pastry bags. As if an afterthought, he asked, “May I join you?”
“Um …,” Barbara glanced around the coffee shop, noticing several unoccupied tables. It confirmed her suspicions. “Lonely,” she thought with a sigh. She could sympathize, but still.
Her gaze caught on the barista at the counter, a serious man, young-but-not-too-young and with a long blond ponytail. He watched them with something like concern.
Barbara returned her eyes to the older man. “Sorry, but I’m working.” She tapped her notebook. “So–”
“Oh, I won’t bother you,” the man said, blue eyes cheerful as he sat down.
Barbara’s mouth may have dropped open.
The man tested his coffee with a sip. Then he took a deeper swig. His satisfied smile sent even more wrinkles into the corners of his mouth and eyes. “Nothing like your first coffee of the day.”
This jarred Barbara from her silence. She couldn’t imagine waiting this long for coffee. “First cup?”
“I like to start my Saturdays here.”
She made a mental note not to come here on Saturday mornings again. She usually came later in the day, but she’d given it a try this morning because she’d wanted to get out. Sometimes it helped to put herself in a crowd. Even if the people were mostly strangers, she still liked having someone close by.
But not this close. This was …
The man pushed one pastry bag toward her. Then he tore open the other bag, broke off part of a large, thick chocolate chip cookie, and popped it into his mouth. Another satisfied smile blossomed across his face.
Barbara sighed and closed her notebook. She considered a long restroom break. Or maybe a chat with that barista over a refill? She could go to a new table after that. Surely the man wasn’t so lonely that he’d follow her.
“Everything alright?”
Barbara flinched. She hadn’t even noticed the barista approaching, but now he stood solemnly by their table, his question hanging in the air. His dark eyes rested on Barbara as if he weren’t quite sure everything was alright.
She thought about it. It would probably be best if she left. “We’re fine, but I could use a refill to go.” She scooted her chair back, eager to get away.
“No, no.” The barista gestured for her to stay. “I’ll get it.” He took her cup and left.
Disappointed, Barbara sat back down.
“He’s a good kid,” said the older man. Then his eyes dropped to the unopened pastry bag between them. “Don’t you like chocolate chip cookies?”
“I don’t want one. Thanks.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Don’t tell me you’re watching your figure.” He shook his head. “My Mathilda watched her figure for years before she let me bring her cookies. She hated coffee shop noise, but she loved the cookies here. The gingerbread cranberry at the holidays were her favorite.”
Barbara noticed his past tense words and felt her shoulders droop. He’d probably lost his spouse. It was a different thing than her divorce, but still. Tears snuck into her eyes. The ties we expected to bind our lives didn’t always last. And there was something about having someone at home and then … not.
Barbara leaned into the table. She could at least listen if he needed that, couldn’t she?
He broke off another piece of cookie. “I’d get home with that cookie, and she’d look up from her puzzle and smile.” His own smile deepened. He was sinking into the memory. “It was a mischievous smile,” he added and chuckled. “I can still see it after all these years. She’d smile like we had some little secret just between the two of us. I may not have always known what that secret was, but it didn’t matter.”
Barbara tried to picture that smile.
“Here you go!” The barista set Barbara’s coffee on the table, clearly trying to make his voice sound upbeat. Still, he only looked serious. Or was it nervous?
“Thank you,” Barbara said.
The barista nodded and left.
“He’s a good kid,” the old man said again. Then he leaned into the table and nudged the cookie closer to Barbara. “I’ll tell you what I told Mathilda. You’re beautiful like you are.”
Surprised, all Barbara could say was, “Thank you.”
“Don’t you look at me like you don’t believe me.”
Barbara laughed. She couldn’t help it.
“There,” he said leaning back, clearly pleased. “But I didn’t mean to chew your ear off. I only wanted to give you some advice.” His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Take another look at that barista.” He inclined his head toward the register. “I think he’s sweet on you but too shy to say it.”
“Oh, but I don’t think …,” her voice trailed off at the man’s knowing nod.
He wrapped up the rest of his cookie. Then he stood, pushed in the chair, and left without another word.
Barbara watched him go. “Huh,” she thought, glancing down at the cookie. Maybe he wasn’t the lonely one, after all.
“I’m so sorry!” The barista was striding to her table. He reached her and dropped his voice to a fierce whisper. “I hope my grandfather wasn’t bothering you. I can tell him to–”
“No!” she interrupted. And she found that she meant it. “We had a nice little chat.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” The barista straightened, running a nervous hand over his apron and looking confused. “Well, good.”
Barbara smiled and saw it made the barista relax a little. “I’m Barbara.” She reached out her hand.
He took it. “James.”
“Nice to meet you, James.” She thought she might not give up on Saturday mornings, after all.
The short story “The Interruption” first appeared in The Polk Street Review 2026, where it was awarded First Place in Prose. Curious to read more about the Sacred Grounds Coffee Company, where this story is set? The Sacred Grounds series prequel novelette, Coincidentally Yours, is available for FREE in Kindle edition for a limited time (June 6-10, 2026 PDT only). Then check out the rest of Smith’s Sacred Grounds series.
Callie J. Smith 