Iran read the lines of code. "Three years of this crap," he said. The bitter taste lingered on his tongue, until he took a bite of a sweet roll from the vending machine. He leaned forward to peek past the wall of his cubicle into the next. The seat was empty, the computer screen atop the desk flickering. He called out, "Terry?"

No response.

Iran stood up and approached slowly, looking side to side. All appearances said Terry had stepped out. There was precious little time. Iran studied what was on the monitor, said, "What the heck are you going for?" What Iran seemed to be looking at was a back door trojan insertion.

"Hey," said voice, and Terry jumped into the air.

"Sorry," said a young woman who had gone too far in business attire 101 to be with the information service group.

"Lost?" he said.

"Looking for Terrence Mowatha," she said. "Is he around here somewhere?"

Iran slowly made his way back to his own desk and said, "Should be right back."

"Thanks," she said, leaning against the cubicle wall. She began to drum softly with her hands.

Terry came around the corner, and upon seeing her said, "Hi."

"Are you Terrence Mowatha," she asked.

"That's me," he replied.

She glanced at Iran, then said, "Down on the second level everybody is saying you grow your own coffee beans."

Terry nodded, said, "True story."

She said, "How is it you keep the trees alive through the cold months? Mean, winters here."

Terry laughed. "Like six months a year," said he.

"Can only get a handful of things to grow," said she.

"Have an indoor greenhouse," said Terry.

"Aren’t coffee beans grown on trees?" she said.

Terry nodded. He glanced at his computer screen and noticed he had left it unlocked when he stepped away. He turned to Iran, whose back was turned so Terry could see he was engaged in a video meeting. Terry said, "Yeah, no big secret. My apartment is an open space. Two floors. The two trees are about ten feet. Have some I roasted yesterday. Want a cup?"

"Love one," she returned. He handed her enough to make a cup in a plastic baggie, and with them she went away. Ten minutes later she came back. Terry looked up at the last second, and she said, "You grew these beans?"

Terry nodded.

Ira turned around and said, "Great coffee, yeah?"

"Amazing," she said.

Terry said, "Thanks. Don’t grow enough to sell them, but one day maybe."

She said, "Well, you’d have a steady customer in me."

"Glad you like," he said, watching her disappear down between the rows of fellow programmers. Terry looked at Iran, said, "You alright?"

"Super busy," said Iran.

Mord McGhee is an award-winning author since 2014 and has been trying to build a life-sized T-Rex out of ice cream. Though disabled, he's not quitting any time soon. Mordmcghee.com for more!