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Oh, I believe in miracles
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E D E N F E Y R E
MONDAYS. Maybe, just maybe if I stay hear all day sat on this barstool, then Monday won't come for me. If only it worked like that. Maybe, If i drown myself in enough coffee or spin myself around too many times on the stool, I'll forget what day it is.
"Decaf?" James calls, looking up briefly, before he punches more numbers into the cash register.
I sigh, "Well I can't drown myself in decaf, can I now?"
James looks up again, this time appearing slightly concerned.
He's one of the new guys that Myles is training up. He says he needs a hand now that Marium is gone, but choosing James has got to be an outrage.
Myles comes through, shutting the door to the back room and placing an empty jar on the counter.
"What's with the... sad face?" He asks,
"My life is a disaster!" I exclaim, frowning.
He tries to look concerned.
"My phone smashed and Harry gave me a lecture on how I shouldn't walk Jude past eight. To top it off, you've only got decaf," I sigh, running out of breath.
"Have you tried rice?"
Haha very funny.
I whirl around on the spinning bar stool, "Good one, Myles,"
"Decafs all we've got, until the suppliers decide to show up," He shrugs.
In the words of Oscar Wilde, my existence is a scandal.
"Its a scam, an outrage - I might just protest," I announce, giving Myles my best angry expression.
He just shakes his head.
"Hot chocolate then?"
How am I supposed to function without my daily intake of coffee. I practically run on the liquid. Infact, I'm half coffee.
"Awh, but coffee is like my honeyed wine," I sigh, slumping down in my seat and propping my face up in my hands.
Myles shrugs, "Tough luck, Feyre,"
He's quick to move on, pulling on his jacket and wandering off to some far corner table.
I'm up on my feet soon after, following him, "Please don't make me go to Starbucks, are you really willing to lose your best customer?"
"I think I'll cope, Feyre," He huffs, pulling three menus out from the stand by the door.
"Oh, but-"
He cuts me off.
"I'll have some sent over as soon as we get the delivery," He adds, mumbling.
A smile tugs at my lips, "You're an Angel Myles... occasionally,"
°°°
My morning is spent trailing around the shop with a broom and packaging up orders out back. Lilea had put on one of her playlists and we had a bit of a sing off. She says she won, but I think we all know who really did.
Mauve.
The Womans a machine. Especially when it comes to singing Tequila. Its advanced stuff.
Later in the afternoon, she ushers Lilea and I outfront to help out with a display. Something big that features many, many pumpkins. Wooden crates, slate shaded vases, old tin planters and dozens of sprigs of babys breath.
"The burnt palm fans should go there - No, shuffle up, next to the tin planter that says 1909," Lilea points out from her seat on a stool she's brought up to the window.
"Who made you Queen?" I ask, placing my hands on my hips and stoping before her.
"Backache did," She huffs.
"Funny, I havent heard of him yet,"
She groans, standing up and stretching herself out.
"Oh, you'll hear from him soon,"
She's right, backache is a pain. Quite literally. Pumpkins have no right being so heavy.
Myles arrives wearing a completely different outfit to the one he had on earlier, but the prize is in his hands. I see rays of golden light. The brown coffee cup can only be a star. My one true wish.
"You alright?" He questions, throwing a slightly concerned glance Lileas way.
Shes quick to straighten up, "I think I need to see a chiropractor,"
"Ah, don't we all,"
"You took your time," I mumble, reaching out for the cup that practically sings my name.
"Well, what can I say Feyre I like to keep to a schedule,"
"The burnt palm fans aren't going to burn themselves," Mauve calls, jokingly.
