I liked coffee shops as much as the next person.
The smell, the environment, and sure, the coffee. I wouldn't call myself a fanatic by any means, nor did I have the financial means to continuously purchase the overpriced dark brew.
But for reasons completely unknown to me, at exactly 1:30pm every day without fail, I found myself at the door of the tiny café appropriately named "The Little Cup".
The ritual began on a downcast day in the middle of October. I had just finished my first class of the day and was stuck in that awkward transition time where it was too short of a period for me to go home, but too long for me to just hover in front of the door for my next class.
I figured I might as well venture out from campus and figure out what this university town actually composed of. My rare spontaneity turned out to be a curse, for just as I reached the sidewalks of what seemed to be a quiet shopping street the sky decided it would be an excellent time to thunder.
To this day I can't recall how I ended up where I did, but somehow, wedged between a 1980s arcade and a quaint bookshop I found myself in front of "The Little Cup." At first glance, the tall brick building was rather ominous.
It loomed over me in the same fashion that I imagined a gothic mansion would, it's sign hung at a strange angle precariously over my head, and I had to debate whether or not this was a place of safety or an abandoned house.
In the end it was the rain that made the decision for me, and I hurriedly pushed open the cracked black door, and stumbled into the smell of roasted coffee beans and tart apple danishes.
The inside of the originally questionable building was something out of a fantasy book. It was deliciously warm and possessed a complete rustic charm with its mishmash of arm chairs, oak coffee tables, and sparkling travel trinkets that glimmered from the golden lights overhead. I very much felt like I had slipped down the rabbit hole.
Wind chimes clinked above me, announcing my presence, and I looked curiously across the shop as a head popped up over the counter. The woman was beautiful. With a flawless mocha skin tone, emerald green eyes, and a sunny yellow handkerchief covering her head, I had no doubt in my mind that despite her polar opposite appearance to the shop's aesthetic she fitted in here like a jig saw piece.
She seemed to squint a bit as she peered past the dim lighting. Feeling awkward, I raised my hand and sent a very questionable wave her way, and attempted for a smile that felt more like a grimace.
"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry dear I didn't see you there." Her voice reminded me of chocolate, or maybe I was just hungry, nonetheless it smoothed over me and I felt my awkwardness diminish... slightly.
"No worries. I did come in unannounced." I wanted to smack my hand across my head, of course I was unannounced, this was a coffee shop, open to the public. In my defense social cues were never my strong suit.
"Don't worry my dear, customers are just a touch hard to come by, so we're not really used to them. Oh dear that was a terrible thing to say wasn't it?" The woman rambled on happily as I made my way through the arm chairs and towards the counter. "Anyways what can I get you?"
I peered up at the elegant handwriting on the chalkboard mounted on the wall behind the counter and realized that I really have no idea how to order coffee.
"What would you recommend?" I asked.
She didn't miss a beat. "Well I personally, simply adore the hazelnut blend myself, but that's more for those with a sweet tooth."
I loved sweets. "I'll take that then." I try again for a smile and must have succeeded because she responds with a row of perfect gleaming teeth.
"That'll be $3.62 if you please." I relinquish the money with some difficulty, student loans were truly atrocious, but alas she was off bustling around the dark contraptions that make an assortment of bubbling noises and I'm left to my own devices.
For a few moments I fiddled with the buttons on my coat, before the pictures mounted on the wall caught my eye. I spared a glance back towards the woman, she was still busying around the gurgling machines, before I made my way over to the modestly framed pictures.
The first one I saw, directly in the centre, was the woman behind the counter, with the fiercest grin I had ever seen in my life. She was garbed in a red patterned handkerchief, and a short red, verging on deep orange, dress, and standing in front of "The Little Cup" with a stance that could only be described as triumphant and proud.
Just to the right of her was a remarkably handsome man with straight black hair tied up into a pony tail, and greyish blue eyes. He was looking at her with something undiscernible in his eyes. To the left was an older man, with unmistakable green eyes, and a grin that rivalled hers.
"That was our opening day."
I startled and swung around to see the woman leaning over the counter as she looked fondly at the picture.
"I was ecstatic. This use to be my grandad's shop before me, he's the one on the left, and I had wanted it ever since I was a small girl. Anyways what am I saying here you go!"
She passed over a tall paper cup, with "The Little Cup" imprinted on it in bronze and a paper bag.
"I'm sorry," I said, "but I don't think I ordered this." I gestured towards the bag.
"It's on the house" she winked back at me.
This time I smiled for real, anyone who gave me sweets were in my good books.
"Oh dear, I nearly forgot to introduce myself. I'm Aadya."
The name suited her, brought out her personality. I reached my hand over the counter.
"Elouise, but everyone calls me El."
She shook my hand.
"El it is."
I spent the rest of my break in the coffee shop, sinking into a lumpy brown armchair next to the giant bay window near the front, and reviewing for my next class.
The hazelnut coffee, as promised, was delicious. With hints of dark chocolate, and just enough sweetness to be delectable, but not enough to be too rich. It wasn't, however, until my hour was almost up that I ventured in the bag and discovered a golden apple Danish. With a crispy exterior and the insides just about oozing out, bringing the sweet scent of cinnamon and sugar. Hesitantly I took a bite. The flavour burst with something so recognizable I felt a tear threaten to drip from my eye.
Now let me assure you I am not an emotional person. In fact the majority of my high school class referred to me as "Ms. Ice." not the kindest thing, but the appropriate evidence in this situation.
I burst from my seat and rushed to the counter.
"Aadya!" Much too loud, I tried again. "Aadya?"
She rushed from the backroom a little flushed, and slightly out of breath.
"Heavens. Who's dying?!"
I almost wanted to laugh.
"I'm sorry, I just wanted to know, who made the apple pastry?"
I watched as her flashing green eyes softened.
"That would be Xav. He drops in every now and then, bakes for a bit and leaves. He came in this morning and made the pastries."
"Can I know where he's staying?"
A glint enters her eye, before it dulls.
"I'm sorry dear. Xav's completely unpredictable, he comes when he wants to come. It could be tomorrow, or it could be months from now. I swear I've known him for his whole life, we're childhood friends, but I still have no idea what's going on in that brilliant mind of his."
"I see." I murmur out. "Anyways thank you so much Aadya. I'm sorry for startling you before. I better get going now though."
"Of course dear, come back soon!"
I gathered my stuff, and tightened my scarf around my face. The sound of wind chimes saw me out.
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