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Pushing the door I was greeted with a soft ringing of a bell. Seeing the small empty cafe I thought to myself, 'quiet, as usual the way I like it.'

"Sir how may I help you today?" The cafe employee asked with a slight smile on their face.

"The usual please." I replied while getting a seat next to a window to start working on my story.

That was how my work schedule was the same cafe, same order, same table, same greetings with the same employee. But it all changed one day when I was greeted with a different face.

The day I first met them I entered the cafe like usual but upon looking at the counter, there were no signs of the usual face to greet me. In my confusion I looked back at the entrance checking to see if I had entered when the cafe was closed out of habit, but it displayed the open sign. So where is the employee?

After trying to get the attention of an employee by shouting and waiting a few minutes I gave up and grumbled to myself,

"Well I didn't come here for the coffee."

Setting my things down at my usual table I set to work ignoring what I thought was a slightly more empty cafe. After an hour of working on my draft I had myself a writer's block. While trying to come up with ways to overcome this I was surprised by a soft voice behind my ears.

"That's a nice story. I can never quite describe events like the way you do."

Quickly turning my head I faced an unfamiliar face. They wore a smile but I couldn't help but think that they were hiding something else behind their smile.

"Thanks." I replied while getting back to my writing.

I thought it would end at just that but then once in a while I would get questions from the stranger asking for advice on how to properly describe events and a character's feelings. I quickly responded as I simply thought it was a one time thing, but as the days went on the questions became more frequent and more specific. The frequency of the questions became so rapid that I decided it was better if I took a seat at the same table as the stranger as it would save me a little effort from having to turn around to face them.

At first the stranger was taken aback and slightly more reserved, but eventually they returned to their habit of frequently asking for advice. To tell the truth I was first annoyed by this change but eventually I came to enjoy the presence of the stranger as it gave me a new writing perspective.

My new usual routine continued for a while until one day the stranger got up mid question, as if they had forgotten something, and left behind the counter. I didn't mind too much as I finally got the answer to my question of where the employee was. Instead I looked at the opposite seat of me and saw the notepad the stranger started bringing with them. They would jot down my advice on it and in my curiosity I flipped through it reading what I assumed was the story they were working on.

Reading through the pages I could clearly see their improvements in describing scenes as they were more clearly able to convey, what I assumed, the main character's pains and agony over their past actions. I shook my head in admiration as they properly made the main character a sympathetic character.

Breaking my thoughts was the sound of something falling to the floor. It was a tray of two servings of sponge cake and coffee. Standing there behind the mess on the floor was the stranger with a mixed expression of apprehension, fear, and sadness.

[Secrets by Sunlight]

Milton Howell walked along the beach with his shoulders slumped and eyes on the sand. He was too distracted with his thoughts to notice the gorgeous view of the orange sun sinking into the ocean. If he looked ahead instead of the ground, he would have spotted the young woman walking with a golden retriever coming his way. He might have hesitated a moment, due to her attractiveness; she had tanned-bronze skin and her light chestnut hair was pulled up in a short ponytail. But, if he noticed her, he would have made a concerted effort to get out of her way. Not that there was anything wrong with her; it was the dog that was the issue. As much as Milton was a dog-person, it seemed that dogs weren't fans of Milton. He was often met with snapping barks at the very least. Dogs knew his dark secret even when no one else did.

"'Evening," Milton looked up when he heard the pleasant greeting. He was instantly infatuated with the young woman walking by; but, that lasted for only a moment before he spotted the dog. It was right next to the woman between her and Milton and it seemed content to remain there regardless of Milton's proximity. But, the situation happened so quickly that Milton panicked when he spotted its shiny golden fur.

"A DOG!!!" He jumped four inches off the sand, then dashed several steps forward as he turned around to make sure it wasn't chasing him. The stranger stared at him with an amused expression.

"He won't hurt you!" she said. "This is Buddy," she reached down to pat the dog's head while Milton gathered his wits. He stared at the dog in awe. It stared back at him while panting happily and wagging his tail.

"Hi... Buddy...," Milton put his hand out and took a slow step forward. Buddy did not react the way other dogs normally did. Milton found more courage and took several more steps until he was next to them. Buddy jumped to put his paws on Milton's chest and immediately began licking his face.

"He likes you," the woman giggled as Milton hugged and patted the dog on the sides. It was a short, pleasant moment; then, Buddy returned to all fours on the ground. Milton was still chuckling.

"I've never had a dog like me before...," he said. Then, he remembered his manners and looked the young woman in the eyes. "My name's Milton," he said.

"Clara," she replied with a nod. "You'd have to be pretty evil for Buddy not to like you," she giggled.

"Yeah...," Milton sighed. His smile dimmed; but, he managed to maintain it. "...maybe I'm not all that bad after all...," he said.

"Of course not," Clara replied. Despite the fact that she was a total stranger, her kindness resonated with Milton. "Buddy's an excellent judge of character," she said. Milton looked down at Buddy; the dog had sat on his haunches to wait for the two humans to finish their conversation. He looked up at Milton panting contentedly.

It could have been her kindness; it might have even been Buddy's acceptance that caused the dam to burst. But, somewhere, deep inside, Milton decided it was okay to open up. He was still too introverted to open up to Clara; but, a dumb animal that didn't know what you were saying was a totally different thing.

"You dumb dog, you're wrong...," Milton knelt in front of Buddy and looked into his large brown eyes while patting his head. "...you don't know a thing about me. I have a dark secret that no one else knows...," he added.

"Buddy knows," Clara giggled. "He won't tell me what it is; but, he knows your secret. He says it's not as big a deal as you think."

"Yeah...," Milton nodded as he pet Buddy. He didn't put too much thought into her words; he kind of felt like she was humoring him using the dog. But, it was working, kind of. "...that's easy for you to say...," he replied.

"Ohhh, you don't even know...," Clara's constant laughter was music to Milton's ears. "...Buddy's got his own secrets. If he says yours isn't a big deal, I'd listen to him."

"Is that right, boy? You've got some secrets of your own?" He talked to Buddy while scratching his ears. Buddy enjoyed every minute of it. The more time he spent with Buddy, the more he felt at ease. "Alright, then, how about a trade?" He glanced up at Clara, to let her know he was genuinely asking.

"Buddy wants to know what kind of trade," she answered.

"I'll tell you my secret, and you tell me yours," He was looking at Buddy; but, he knew he was talking to Clara. He doubted she had a secret at all; but, she was encouraging him to share his. It was a chance he might never have again.

"*BARK*" Buddy barked as if he understood the terms; but, Clara confirmed it anyway.

"Buddy says you're on," she said.

"I'm a werewolf," Milton blurted it out. He did not want to risk talking himself out of it. The thing he wanted more than anything at that moment was to be accepted for who he was. It wasn't until after Clara started giggling that Milton realized he couldn't prove it until the next full month.

"You call THAT a 'dark' secret??" Clara continued to laugh; it sounded less melodious when she was laughing at him.

"Well, what's his secret??" Milton asked as he gestured at Buddy.

"I can talk," Buddy answered. He had a distinctly male voice that didn't sound anything like Clara's.

"What?" Milton looked down at Buddy. The dog nodded at him.

"I can talk," he repeated. Milton watched Buddy's mouth move; there was no doubt he was talking. Milton was so shocked that he didn't know how to react exactly. The only thing he could think to do was defend his honor.

"And you think THAT qualifies as a dark secret??" Milton asked. He kept his relationships to a minimum for most of his 37 years to avoid hurting anyone with his dark secret. He did not need to hear "it's not that bad" from a talking dog whose secret would make them rich. Buddy shook his head.

"That's just as 'dark' as your secret is," Buddy answered. "But, if you want to get an idea of what a real 'dark secret' is like...," Buddy paused and looked into Milton's eyes.

"I'm the reason the universe is in this accursed timeline."

***
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1790 in a row. (Story #345 in year five.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at this link.