Until I Met You

8

Café Le Jour was definitely my favorite place to have breakfast before going to my classes. The French-styled cafe displayed round, black tables that had umbrellas in each center of the table, as well as condiments like sugar, salt and pepper. The tops of the umbrellas swirled a strong red color as they tried to save you from the upcoming rain, if you wanted to eat outside anyway of course. I took my seat inside because I didn't want my outfit to be ruined by the sudden drops of water that came from the unapologetic sky. A waiter saw me sitting and immediately went to take my order. I decided on two chocolate-filled croissants accompanied by one Italian cappuccino.

"Extra whip cream please", I said as I scrolled through the menu to see if I wanted anything else.
The whip cream makes the difference in a cappuccino. I have tried many cappuccinos in the past, and most of them tasted like burned milk because of not putting enough foam and whip cream. DD definitely doesn't have my coffee approval.

As I pulled out my daily journal, I stared cautiously at the people that were close to my table. Most people would think that what I'm doing is stalking, but is not entirely true. I was assigned to record a normal setting where people socialize for my creative writing class. There is an older woman who is making a concerned face expression to her coffee. Maybe she didn't like it. Who knows?
Just as I was starting to write about this older women, whose name I'm going to assume is Joanne, the bell of the front doors opening distracts me from my purpose in this cafe.
When I see who just came in, my eyes just paused and I felt like I wasn't blinking for ages.

It was Marcos. With another girl.