The [Im]perfection Dare (31 day writing challenge)

Day 1

But First Love

Write a scene that takes place in a coffee shop.

I was new to the town, but I seldom stay long in any town without hunting up a good coffee shop. This one looked a bit primitive, but, as they say, don't judge a book by its cover. The same goes for a coffee shop. 

I gazed up at the sign over the door, and smiling at the name, "But First Coffee," I entered. 

Coffee has been something I've loved since childhood, when my father first gave me a sip from his cup. And since then, my favorite place to be is a small town coffee shop. 

Upon entering, I found it was indeed primitive, more so than I had guessed from the outside. The staff were all dressed for the Victorian era, and I felt a little out of place in my old faded suit.

"May I serve you, sir?" a man, presumably the owner, asked.

"A small coffee, please." 

"Cream or sugar?" 

"Both, please."

"Right this way," he showed me to a table in a corner, with a lamp in the center. The last available. "Be right back."

The smell of a coffee shop is something one never seems to grow tired of. One can sit and inhale all day, without wishing themselves anywhere but there. But this coffee shop was different, in a good way. It was peaceful, compared to the others I'd been to, which always seem noisy and crowded. Strangely enough, though this place was full, it didn't seem to be so. 

The man returned with a steaming mug, just as a small girl entered, in a wheelchair. 

"Please, sir," she tugged at his coat tail. "May I have some coffee?"

"Coffee? Oh, you wouldn't want coffee!" he laughed and walked off, shaking his head. The girl just sat, looking forlornly after him.

"It's the same every day," she mumbled, as if to herself. "No one ever wants to give me coffee." 

"You really want it?" I asked.

She turned to face me. "Of course I do. But I can't pay for it. That's why they never give me any."

Much as I love coffee, I couldn't bring myself to take even one sip from my mug; not with those forlorn little eyes gazing at the steaming beverage. I sighed and pushed it toward her.

She stared, not believing what had just happened.

"Go ahead; drink it. It's yours."

"Really?" she asked, a hint of a smile coming to her face.

"Really," I smiled back. 

She took the mug in her hands and sipped slowly, making it last as long as possible. 

I patted her shoulder, and without waiting for thanks, I walked back to the counter.

"Done already, son?" the owner asked.

I waved it off. "How much to I owe?"

"Buck eighty-nine," he answered. "What do you think of our coffee shop?"

"It's a nice atmosphere, the best I've found. I think the name needs a change, though."

"Oh, and what would you suggest?"

"But First Love."