The cold, winter air hits Emma's face as she emerges from the apartment complex. She walks towards the traffic lights and presses the cold, silver button, sending a shiver down her spin. Goosebumps erupt over her arms, she rubs her hands up and down the outside of her jacket in an attempt to generate some form of warmth. The light on the other side of the street turns green, Emma walks across the road along side a few other people, walking briskly to get to work, meetings, places. 'This is the beauty of being an author' she thought. 'I can take my time to enjoy the small things' . Which is very true, Emma is a very observant and curious person, she would always appreciate every tiny detail, whether it be rain drops to the way people moved to the cracks in the pavement. She saw beauty in it all.
Walking down the street of cafes, book stores and other miscellaneous syndicates, Emma begins to feel droplets of rain fall onto her face. Other people walking beside her rush to walk under the covers of the shops beside, but she likes the feeling of the rain. The cool feeling of it falling onto her pale skin, the invigorating smell filling her nose, the glassy effect it gave everything around her, almost making everything appear slightly more pure than it did before. She loves the sound her feet make when they hit the small puddles of water that are scattered along the path. It's a roughly four minute walk to the coffee shop on Green, as Emma became closer and closer, she could smell the strong, rich aroma emanating from the small cafe. Eventually she found herself standing at the entrance, a cottage-like structure with tall windows covering the front was standing before her. The building was covered in green vines and tendrils that scaled up the entirety of the white, brick surface. She opens the large wooden door that stands between her and her happy place. She steps inside and removes her black, slightly damp coat and hangs it on the tall rack that stands by the entrance. Before her is a large, yet cosy room, filled with a variety of comfortable furniture, bookshelves stacked with classic novels, patterned cushions and people absorbed in their own little worlds. At the back of the room, is the coffee station, a barista with a long brown pony tail and a gentle smile waves at Emma. She walks towards her, where all of the coffee machines and large glass displays of various cakes and snack items are. "Morning Em, the usual?" the brown hair barista smiles. "Thanks Jess," Emma says, taking her bag off of her shoulder and walking towards her favourite corner, it is positioned perfectly from a window looking out to a garden that was kept in the alley way beside the shop, a bookshelf and the warm fireplace that sat adjacent to her favourite pale blue sofa. Emma pulls her laptop out of her bag and places it on the wooden coffee table that sat in front of her. She opens it, the screen still displaying the document to her latest story. Jess approaches Emma's corner and sits a large white mug down on the table. "Thanks," she says, picking up the mug with both of her hands and bringing it up to her face, she breathes in deeply, inhaling the aromatic, rich, deep scent she had been craving all morning. She look a sip of her hot coffee and set it back down on the table. This, this right here, is her happy place.
