Harmony amidst Chaos | A Jori story

Mellow Brews

-JADE'S POV-

For truly great coffee, there's nowhere better than Mellow Brews. It's my all-time favorite spot. The beans are insanely fresh, roasted to perfection, and it's not just the coffee. Their bakery section is a dream, with warm, buttery croissants, flaky pastries, and muffins that are somehow both light and rich. The scent of this place—if you could only smell it—is pure heaven.

I push open the door, and the soft jingle of the bell announces my arrival. The warm hum of quiet conversations, the clinking of mugs and the gentle hiss of the espresso machine fills the air. I'm immediately hit by the rich, earthy aroma of coffee beans, mixed with the sweet, buttery scent of pastries fresh out of the oven.

The place itself has this charming vibe, like it's been around forever but never gets old. Worn-out chairs and wooden tables are scattered around, each one mismatched but somehow perfectly in place. Bookcases line the walls above some of the tables, crammed with everything from classic novels to forgotten paperbacks with cracked spines. One entire wall is exposed brick, filled with local art that changes every month—paintings, sketches, even the occasional quirky sculpture. There's a small podium in the corner, complete with a guitar propped up against it, inviting anyone brave enough to play.

Every now and then, someone actually does. I've been lucky enough to catch a few impromptu performances here—one guy played jazz so smooth it felt like silk, and another time, a girl sang acoustic covers that made everyone stop and listen. It's the kind of place where moments like that just happen, where people come not just for coffee but for a little bit of magic in their day.

I love to bring my notebook here, jotting down the things I notice. There's something peaceful about capturing these fleeting moments, like a marketing trainee lost in their laptop. Or a group of young girls giggling uncontrollably over some inside joke, probably about school or a recent crush. The barista at the counter, smiling as they take orders, who got handed a napkin with someone's phone number scribbled on it. Or the way an old man sips his coffee slowly, staring out the window like he's waiting for someone who might never show up.

As I drape my slightly damp jacket over the back of the worn-out chair and settle into my seat, something catches my attention. At the counter, a couple is debating what to order. They're young but older then me, maybe college-aged. Their voices carry just enough for me to catch bits of their conversation. She's teasing him for ordering an iced latte even though the weather's shitty. He laughs, shrugging, and says something about how he always drinks iced coffee, no matter the weather.

They exchange these warm, effortless smiles, and then he places his hand lightly on her back. She leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder as they wait for their drinks. It's such a simple moment, so small and unremarkable, yet it feels... significant.

I feel a pang in my chest, a mix of emotions. There's heartache, definitely. Loneliness, for sure. But there's something else, too—something on the lines of bittersweet nostalgia. Watching them reminds me of how it used to be with Beck.

Believe it or not, there was a time when we had moments like that. When we'd laugh over something stupid, teasing each other about the smallest things. When we'd touch without thinking, the kind of casual intimacy that comes so naturally when you're happy with someone.

But it hasn't felt like that in a long time. Not for us. Somewhere along the way, we lost that warmth, that ease. Everything felt forced, like we were holding onto something that had already slipped through our fingers.

I glance away from the couple and stare out the window, trying to shake the ache in my chest. The world outside feels distant, blurred by the rain streaking down the glass.