»
Main Forums
»
Passions in Prose
»
The Coffee Shop
| Passions in Prose |
|
The Coffee Shop |
|
|
drummerboy678 Member
since 2003-10-28
Posts 134 |
The clouds cry, thunder yells, lightning screams “look at me” and the people listen, as they run from covering to covering. Cars slow down on the rain-slick roads, yet hurry to get their passengers to shelter. And there I am, the heated coffee-shop, in the middle kiosk of the bookstore, pouring espresso into a ladies cappuccino as she brushes the raindrops off her jacket and smiles politely, patiently awaiting her drink, her warm remedy, her therapeutic massage. I am truly happy. There is nothing like sitting in a cozy chair with an untouched book in one hand and a hot drink in the other, as the rain taps its watery fingers at the window outside. Although I am working, I see all this, from my lookout behind the counter. Rainy days are always the busiest, yet still my favorite, as only the true coffee-fans and readers are brave enough to drive the rain coated roadways. It eliminates the teenage, caramel frappachino crowd. The ladies who will stare at the menu for ten minutes and order water. The people who don’t know the difference between a latte and a breve. These are days the true bookstore crowd come out, and I am honored to serve them. Each shot, poured 18-23 seconds, the layer of crema emerges from the base of the espresso glass and rises slowly to the top of the drink as you poor. Lattes, machiattos, cappuccinos. They all know exactly what they want. A hot drink, a book, the cozy chair in the corner, and the thunder humming in the distance, as the rain creeps down the glass on its descent to the ground. On my break, I will often go down onto the book floor. Order “the usual” from the cafe and grab the latest novel by my favorite author. I go to the chair in the corner. The drink, the book, and the chair. It’s all you need. The warm liquid flows down your throat and your fingers slowly follow your eyes down the page, then flip to the next as not to miss a moment. It’s the experience. The half hour breaks fly by on those rainy days. Back to work. I don’t mind. Dry triple decaf mocha, skinny with whip. 21 second shot. Perfection. Brew some more coffee. Take the scones out of the oven. Grande breve caramel macchiatto with whip. Grande cup, four pumps vanilla, steamed half-and-half to 150-170 degrees, two shots of espresso poured through the drink, 19 seconds, caramel sauce, whip cream, caramel sauce. Perfection. She smiles and takes her drink. I smile and watch her pick up the latest readers digest magazine and collapse in the chair. The music plays. Beethoven’s 9th. People read and sip their lattes. For these few rainy hours, they have escaped the outside world. Grocery shopping. Driving the kids to soccer practice. The mundane jobs they go to every day. It’s their escape, to their own little world, this literary paradise. They leave after a few hours, but I know they will return, when the clouds cry again. |
||
| © Copyright 2004 drummerboy678 - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
Endlessecho Member
since 2003-09-05
Posts 398I live within myself |
I LOVED this peice. I completely understand that feeling. I get this amazing feeling when I enter a library or bookstore - like I've come home. Like I just belong there. It's so comfortable. And on rainy days, there's nothing better. Your observations of everything - especially the people - were wonderful. I love sitting in the bookstore either wrapped up cozy in a chair reading a book or sprawled across with my hot drink cupped in my hands watching the people stream around outside the glass window. This was such a great peice of writing. I look forward to reading more of your observations on life.  |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
