“Out!”he barks.“Clearly, I’m not wanted here.”He strides out of the apartment.The door slams shut, the impact shaking the walls, leaving me alone in the silence.
For a beat, I stand motionless.Then, with a sigh, I move mechanically toward the table and blow out the candles, plunging the room into darkness.
My body heavy and my mind numb, I enter the bedroom, walk straight to the bed and slide under the covers.I lie there, staring at the ceiling, the events of the past twenty-four hours playing on a loop.Exhaustion washes over me, dulling the sharp edges of the day’s turmoil.
I close my eyes, seeking the oblivion of sleep.
TEN
THE AROMA OF freshly brewed coffee saturates the air, mingling with the sweet scent of cinnamon rolls and buttery croissants.The clatter of cups, the hiss of the espresso machine, the murmur of conversations, all blend into a steady, comforting hum.I stand behind the counter, my hands moving on muscle memory as I prepare a latte, the steam swirling upwards in a fragrant cloud.Dressed in my favorite yellow sweater, I take a deep breath, savoring the familiar rhythm of my café and the sense of belonging that surrounds me.The morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows warms my skin.
“Two cappuccinos and two croissants for table three!”Helen calls out through the crowded space.
“Coming right up!”I reply, adding a flourish of latte art to the foam.
I glance at the clock, a vintage piece that Mary adored.
Eight thirty.
Just another day at Maddy’s Place.The warm lighting, the mismatched chairs, the regulars chatting at their usual tables… it all offers a quiet peace my frayed nerves desperately need.
I arrange the two cappuccinos and croissants on the tray, tucking a sugar packet holder beside them.“Here you go, Helen.”I hand her the tray.“For table three.”
“Thanks, Ames,” she replies with a playful wink.“You’re a lifesaver.Those ladies look like they’re about to start a caffeine riot.”
I chuckle and turn to greet the next customer, a young man with a sleepy smile and a book tucked under his arm.“Good morning, what can I get for you?”I ask, slipping into the cheerful persona I’ve perfected.
“Black coffee, please.Dark roast,” he replies, his gaze lingering on the pastry display.
“Coming right up,” I say, already reaching for a cup and scooping coffee beans into the grinder.
A lull settles over the café, the morning rush subsiding.I lean against the counter, enjoying the respite.My gaze travels over the chatty patrons and settles on the back corner.Nestled near the windowpane is Lou, engrossed in a worn paperback.His wispy white hair catches the sunlight, and his pale blue eyes, magnified by reading glasses, twinkle with a hint of mischief.At seventy-five, he’s a comforting presence in the ever-changing flow of this place.
I grab the coffeepot and walk over.“Morning, Lou,” I say.“Top you off?”
“Why, thank you.”His smile widens as I refill his mug.
“TheGreat Gatsby,” I say, eyeing the cover.“Isn’t that the one with the green light?”
“Indeed it is,” he replies, eyes crinkling.“But there’s much more to it, my dear.That green light at the end of Daisy’s dock… it’s the symbol of the dream that always seems just out of reach.”
“The dream that’s just out of reach…” I repeat, the phrase striking a chord.“I suppose we all have our green lights, don’t we?”
He dips his chin, thoughtful.“We all have those desires that keep us reaching, even when the path seems dark.”
My own lost dreams flash before my eyes…
The café.
A place to call home.
A love that doesn’t suffocate.
My chest tightens.A lump forms in my throat.“And what happens when that green light fades?”I ask, my voice scratchy.
Lou pauses, looking over his glasses.Then, his focus shifts to something behind me.A flicker of surprise crosses his face.
“Just because it fades doesn’t mean it’s gone,” a deep voice says.
