09:34: You miss 100% of the shots you dont take ali, and lets face it, you dont take any shots on your own. Dont worry about it. Have a good day at work. Try not to get sauce on your face xo
Alianna put her phone in her pocket as she exited the staff room of the café she worked in and tied an apron around her waist. She ran her hand across her head, ensuring that no loose hairs had escaped her ponytail, and she stepped out into the café. She was met with the usual Saturday morning scene – couples having breakfast, people grabbing a quick coffee before going for their shopping trips, some people sat in the darker corners of the room with sunglasses on, recovering from a heavy night before.
“Hey, Ali,” said her co-worker, sidling up next to her behind the till.
“Hey, Tom. Busy morning so far?”
“You know what it’s like.”
Tom had worked with her at the café for two years now. He said that they shared similar aspirations: a desire to get out of Porthan, to find something bigger and more important than their small town jobs, mundane routines, and to do something that they really thought mattered.
Despite this, she secretly felt that Tom lived for this little café. She had quietly encouraged him to consider opening up a place of his own one day, which always made him smile, but he never passed much comment. He was a couple of years younger than her and had grown up in Porthan.
Tom leant across the counter to take an order. Alianna recognised the customer. He came in most weekends. An older man, in his 70s, who wore a brown cap and a comfortable polo shirt. He had a white moustache and a genuine, kind smile that always reached his eyes. Without thinking, she began making his usual order of a latte with some vanilla syrup. Not too much syrup, though, or otherwise it gets a bit too sweet. One of those nice ginger biscuits, too, if there’s any about.
“Morning, John. Nice day, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is, Tom, yes it is. I’d like a hot drink, please. A latte, with some vanilla syrup. Not too much syrup though, or otherwise it gets a bit too sweet. One of those nice ginger biscuits too, if there’s any about.”
“Coming up,” smiled Tom, ringing John’s order through the till. Not a moment after he’d paid, Alianna had his drink ready in a takeaway cup, set down in front of him.
“Here you are, John. Two ginger biscuits, so you can save one for later. Don’t tell anyone else you got extra – you’re a special customer,” she smiled warmly and handed over his two biscuits, wrapped in plastic packaging, which he tucked away in a pocket.
“Thank you, Alianna. Very kind indeed. I’m volunteering for the museum at the moment, and we have some new exhibitions on. If I pop round later with some of the leaflets, do you think you could put one up in the window?”
“Absolutely, I’d love to. Anything good in the exhibitions?”
“Yes, actually, all quite interesting. There’s one on marine life, with some really nice photographs. Must be taken with a really good camera, one that can go quite far underwater without breaking. There’s another one on metal work, and we’ve got some chap coming to do a talk, later this month, which should be quite enlightening. Then, all this month, there’s an exhibition on the founders of Porthan and locally found objects. Lots of things have been returned to the museum. Leant to other places for small exhibitions they had, and they must have just tucked our bits away in their stores. So, it’s all coming back, and the curators have put together a whole exhibit on it. Opens tomorrow, actually.”
“I’ll have to come in,” said Alianna, “sounds really special. Bring those leaflets in as soon as you get a chance. I’ll put one in the window, and have some spare for people to take on the information table.”
“You’re a gem, Alianna. Thank you. I’ll see you again soon.” With that, John left, quietly sipping on his latte.
It was customers like John that kept Alianna working here. Not the shoppers, not the people that were so busy that a basic please and thank you wasn’t something they had time for, but the nice folk like John who enjoyed the little things in life, like his not-too-sweet latte with his ginger biscuit.
***************
Tash:
12:43: Shadow says hi. We have been on the beach, and he’s asleep on my sofa after getting the place sufficiently sandy.
Ali:
13:21: Thanks. Just on break. Museum John has dropped leaflets in about new exhibits on this month. One on marine life looks good. Want to go?
Tash:
13:49: Not really. Sorry. That place is a snooze. For me, at least. Know you love it. You go, tell me about it. Then I can pretend I went in as well xo
Ali:
13:50: Ok. Finishing at 3 today. You can drop Shadow back to mine if you want or I can get him later. See you soon xo
Alianna returned from the staff room after finishing her break. The café was quieter after the lunch rush, and after wiping down the tables indoors, she went outside to see if any tables needed clearing. She stopped, startled, when she saw the only occupant of one of the outdoor tables: Max.
He hadn’t noticed her, his face gilded by the afternoon sun. He was looking down at his coffee, which he seemed to stir absent-mindedly, seemingly lost in thought. His chiselled features were drawn in what appeared to be frustration, and he reached a hand up to sweep the hair that had fallen onto his forehead out of the way, dragging a hand through his hair. He wore a white shirt with the top two buttons undone, revealing hints of a muscled chest beneath. Alianna contemplated turning around and going back inside, when he looked up. His face softened as his eyes landed on her, his eyes lighting up in recognition.
“Alianna,” he smiled. “I didn’t know you worked here.”
