Here, Kitty, Kitty!

Burnt Cookies

I cover my mouth with my hand as I yawn, stretching my arms out as I look over the tray of freshly made cookie dough already sectioned out and ready to be baked. It's about mid-day and customers have begun to show up less and less as closing time approaches, leaving me with far too much time on my hands. Instead of standing behind the front counter waiting for the last few customers in the dining area to finish up, I decided to try my hand at a new cookie recipe I've been trying to perfect while listening out for the bell.

I open up the oven door, feeling the familiar warmth hit my face. After adjusting the oven mitts on my hands I grab the tray and slip it into the oven carefully before kicking it shut and instantly taking off the oven mitts. As I place the mits on their hook my eyes lock onto the bowl full of leftover cookie dough, immediately reaching for the spoon I used to section out clumps when my hands are free and sticking it in my mouth.

My smile brightens a little as I let one of the chocolate chips melt on my tongue, it tastes good, definitely the best batch I've made so far. I reach over the stove to grab the little post-it note hanging above it and pull it towards me, going over the notes I took on the recipe as I dip the spoon back into the cookie dough and place it back into my mouth. My eyes scan the post-it note carefully to make sure I didn't forget to write down a step or record a measurement, knowing that I'll need to be able to study and remake the recipe a few times.

Once I confirm the recipe is written down fully I open up one of the counter drawers and pull out a notebook, taking its pen out of the bindings and clicking it. I flip the notebook open to where I keep the other cookie recipes and begin to copy down the new set of instructions in the nicest handwriting I can muster, knowing Hina's bound to sift through it at some point and joke me for my handwriting again.

I'm still copying down the recipe from the post-it when the sound of the front door bell catches my attention. I stick the post-it back over the stove and put the notebook and pen on the counter before opening the stove door to check the cookies to judge how much longer they might need, closing it again after a quick approximation. I then dust off my apron so I don't look like a mess and head over to push open the sliding doors.

"Good Afternoon, sorry to keep you waiting, what can I get you?" I don't fully look up at who I'm talking to until I finish, finally meeting the customers' peach-colored eyes. My eyes scan over him quickly, taking in the way his hair almost matches his eyes, before my gaze lands on the cat perched on his shoulder with large blue eyes and grayish curly fur. I find myself looking at the cat instead of its owner, as I try to figure out if I can tell the difference between this cat, which I'm sure is a familiar, and the ones in the alley. Out of the corner of my eye, I can tell the customer is giving me an odd look, probably wondering why I'm staring at what's most likely his familiar so intently.

I shake my head and give the customer a smile, hoping my staring wasn't too weird. The man smiles back at me but his smile seems a little... ingenuine, probably because my staring freaked him out. "You're a bit of an airhead, huh?" The man's teeth remain almost on perfect display as he speaks, making me question if I actually heard him right.

My smile falters a bit in confusion as I blink a few times before deciding I must have heard him wrong. "Excuse me?

Despite my confusion, the man doesn't seem phased, simply laughing a little as he reaches up to pet his cat. "Don't worry, it's kinda cute." The man leans forward, placing his arms on the counter so he can lay his head on one of them. In the process of changing his position, he practically forces the cat off of his shoulder, causing it to jump onto the counter so it doesn't fall.

My eyes widen as I'm caught off guard by how out of nowhere his comment seems to be, my gaze shifting between him and his slightly frazzled-looking cat that's standing on my counter. "That's," I avert my eyes from the man and take a breath. Why have my customers been so strange lately? "Can I get you anything, sir?" I decide to try and drive the conversation back towards the original topic, instead of attempting to humor whatever he's saying. The man rolls his eyes at me before looking up at the menu, glancing over it almost critically as he continues to lean over my counter. I glance back at his cat and slowly hold my hand out to it, careful not to startle it. The cat looks between me, my hand, and its owner, who's still looking up at the menus in thought, before stepping forward and stretching out its neck to sniff at my fingers, backing away immediately after.