Year of 365

September 3

Soft jazz music drifted through the air on invisible speakers, sometimes able to escape into the street outside whenever the door opened. A jingle of the small bronze bell above the door let the employees know that they had a new customer to serve. Besides these sounds, the café was relatively quiet, save the small idle chatter drifting from people who had ventured into the small out-of-the-way café. 

It was a homey little place, made from old brick, from the looks of it, with wood accents. It had a comforting feel to it, which was strengthened by the multitude of throw pillows and plants strewn across the sitting areas. A few circle tables still had dirty cups and saucers on them, waiting to be picked up and cared for by one of the baristas working behind the counter. Most of the tables were small circles, matched carefully with black iron chairs that you would often see at a garden party. 

The large windows that surrounded the place were splattered with water, like someone was practicing the finest art. The small curls of rain drops ran down the glass like snakes, each racing to the bottom as if it was the last morsel of food for the year. Though, these had a more dainty and delicate look than snakes normally did. Even from inside, with the door closed, you could still smell the rain flicking the tip of your nose, a tantalizing smell, almost begging you to come outside and dance under the beautiful silver clouds.

Along with the smell of rain came the smell of fresh pastries coming out of the back though a saloon style door. Fresh blueberry muffins, sweet and yet tangy every time your teeth nipped at the berry, sending a flood of purple juice into your mouth. Cookies of all sorts of comforting flavors, like cinnamon that would allow you to escape back to the days of sickness as a child when your mother would bake for you, or the chocolate chip cookies that came with every bake sale. And of course, the smell of hot chocolate and coffee. A staple in a quaint little café like this, known far and wide for its near magical taste of hot and cold beverages alike. Milk seamed to perfection with a slight hint of vanilla or another mellow flavor that would send your taste buds into a frenzy, peppermint hot chocolate which was available year round while other shops just sold it during the cold months at the end of the year, and the bitter taste of coffee, easily soothed with one of the many creamers that were lined up in perfect order at the back of the café behind the counter.

It was strange how so many people were able to pass by this place without a second look in, and yet, inside, it was filled to the brim. Couples were sitting in loveseats and booths, making affectionate comments and gestures toward each other, trying and failing to be subtle about it. The elderly were also mingling, some on dates, others just stopping by for a quick second to get out of the pouring rain. And of course, there were those who were here to study one subject or another. A girl studying psychology near the window, her laptop up against her knees and a blueberry scone clenched in between her teeth as she typed furiously on her keyboard. Another two girls were discussing their latest criminology class which had resulted in a mock trial coming up the next day. A group of normally rowdy boys were now sitting at a booth near the back, each with a mug of steaming liquid in their hands, calming their normal excited attitudes down to the quietness of gentle waves on the beach. 

The owner of the café peeked out from behind the saloon doors and looked around at everyone currently snacking away or working hard. It had been only a few short years since he had opened up and to say that his café was a success was an understatement. Sure it was usually just a few regulars who came in for their favorite beverage and snack to take a break, but every now and then, someone would bring someone new in and a new friendship could begin between the new client and their favorite seat next to the roaring hearth.