Aditi strolled up town, set out for her next stop– the local bakery. She was told it was the best in town and had the best service. The smell of vanilla, tea and fresh strawberries filled her nostrils as soon as she walked through the door, the annoying little noise of the bell announcing her arrival to those who were already present in the establishment. The space was crowded with locals dividing themselves among chairs, sofas, and pouffes; some entertained by their books while others chatted with friends.
Her visit to the counter began with a short, rather snobbish man greeting her. "Excuse me– good day, sir. Are the croissants still available?" she questioned. "No, anything else?" he replied harshly. The tone he took towards Aditi didn't sit well with her, but she managed a smile and ordered a dozen of their best pastries and a beverage.
She had barely reached a table when the waiter came with her order. He placed a cream steaming cup in front of her. She set her sketchbook down and excitedly held her drink. Oh, that sweet, sweet aroma wafted into her nostrils, making her giddy. Although it did not beat the aroma of spices back in India, it certainly hit close. She gingerly sipped her drink. Aditi absolutely adored the hot liquid, but it was awfully bitter.
Her mind contemplated if she should ask for the sugar or just quietly sip it and not trouble the worker anymore. She watched the waiter serve more customers. She needed the sugar, though. The beverage was too bitter for her liking. In lieu of calling the waiter to her table, Aditi walked over to the counter.
Her wait for him to complete taking an order from an elderly woman was over. "Apologies for interrupting, sir, but I think you may have forgotten to add the sugar," she smiled, handing him the cup.
"You asked for tea with milk," he stated bluntly, returning to work.
The cafe was packed. She could not really blame him for not heeding her request, but she tried one more time anyway. "Yes... and three cubes of sugar," she corrected but to her dismay, she was once again ignored by the man.
"Could I at least get the sugar, please?"
"I do not have time for your silly requests, young lady," he snapped, before serving an elderly couple with their order. That's when the argument broke out. Her patience had been stretched too far. Aditi slammed her palms on the counter and leaned over it, towering above him.
"Listen here, you little snob," she hissed into his face. "This bakery, according to my understanding, is the friendliest in the area, so I expect a service with a smile. Secondly, I want a replacement for my drink and if you cannot do that, the least you can do is give me the bloody sugar!" An offended look crossed the waiter's features and he nodded slowly, seemingly taken aback by her sudden outburst.
As he rushed to redo her order, her eyes glanced over the faces in the crowd that surrounded her, the scene causing a break out of murmurs. However, one man in the corner of the shop seemed to be slightly amused as he stifled a laugh. She noticed a chess board on his table.
"Here's your order, Miss. I really do apologise for the inconvenience caused," the waiter said before repeating her order for confirmation. Aditi turned her gaze back to him and composed herself. "Thank you," she forced a smile, grabbing her drink and the box of pastries. One last look at the crowd, she stormed out of the bakery, blood pulsing and headache growing.
She couldn't imagine why someone as grumpy as that would be hired to run a shop with happy customers. I'm going to give him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps, he's having a bad week, Aditi thought. She decided to sketch for fun to lighten the mood. In an aimless stroll, the aspiring artist flipped through the book's pages, seeking a blank one. Mind focused on thinking of ways she could kindle her inspiration, she was unaware of the direction she walked in.
YOU ARE READING
Fitoor: The Obsession
RomanceBeing a wife at mere twelve, it was hard for Aditi Veer to imagine a life of freedom. When her husband died a few years later, it was as if the gates had sprung wide open for her to conquer the world; one canvas at a time. She paints her way to bein...