Dear Mister Bright Blue

Welcome (end)

About a week passed after the exchange.

The café started getting more customers than usual and everytime Mr. Bight blue waits outside, we talk for a bit.

However, I still don't know his name. I know it may sound a bit odd considering how we would talk for a bit.

But I never have that urge to go ask him. I am quite content on how things are going right now. Although, I might ask him for his name.

As I stock up the display case with fresh pastries, I notice more people coming in.

Smiling, I gladly serve them along side my co-workers. Over the time I've been working at the café, I've grow  soft towards the small cozy shop.

The sweet smell of freshly baked cookies and cake told me that the new batch were done.

I walk to the kitchen and pick up the trays, carying each one with extreme caution.

The syrup on the cake glistened under the light. The pan is still a bit hot from the oven, causing me to grit my teeth from the burning sensation.

Why am I not wearing oven mits you ask? Well its simple. I don't have any. The shop only has 2 or 3 pairs for the bakers, but thats all. And plus, we damaged a pair trying to stop a mini fire in the oven.

I quickly place the pans on the table and soak my hands in ice cold water.

Ahhh so much better!

Noticing that I was somehow bleeding, I wash off the blood and wrap bandages around the wounds.

I hum softly and carefully slide the desserts into the glass case.

After arranging and rearranging the display a few times, I finally come up with a setup I am pleased with.

Wiping off the fingerprints on the glass, I go help serve more custumors.

About an hour of buisiness passed and rush hour was mostly over.

I lounge at the front desk, skimming through some magazines.

Wow is there a lot of beautiful people in this world.

I flip the page.

Thats when my heart stops for a bit.

A familiar blue haired figure stared back at me from the paper.

No way.

I rub my eyes a bit and look back. It is him! I mean I knew he was quite the good looking fellow, but I didn't know he was in a magazine!

Flipping through the others I see that he indeed is in all of them.

'Multimillionaire corporate president ----------------'

The name is scratched out unfortunately.

I grin. He looks so happy. And not just fake happy, but sincere genuine happy.

I ask the manager if I could bring them home and he happily complies.

As Im about to close up the store, I hear the bells on the door chime.

Who could it be at this hour?

I turn around, my eyes go wide.

"Hi."

I stare in shock. As I stand up straight, I catch a glimpse of the nametag on his chest.

I chuckle.

Huh. How fitting.

Dusting off my apron, I stand up straight.

"Welcome!"