Seven Days

Saturday

He was finishing the design on the cappucino with frothed milk when he got the text.

It sort of annoyed him, to be honest. Most people who worked in coffee shops found it boring to make drinks after a while, but he had never gotten to that stage, even after two years. In fact, he now considered it his art form - making drinks, and especially cappucino art. He excelled at that, if he did say so himself, and put actual effort into it. Which was why it was annoying to get interrupted.

He handed the drink to his co-worker, who put it on the counter and yelled some name or another. Checking the time, he realized his shift would be over in five minutes.

The text had been from a long-time friend, one who had worked at the coffee shop almost a year ago. They had become good friends while working together, and had kept in contact since then, sending each other cute DIYs from Pinterest and sharing life news, even engaging in deep phone conversations if they were needed.

Got my book illustrated, sending it to publisher today! the text read, accompanied by a smiley face. He grinned in spite of himself; she had left the coffee shop to write, and finally it was coming true.

Since it was time for him to end his shift, he went to the back room to grab his bag and beloved pastel-colored jacket, yelling a bye and thanks to his co-worker as he pushed the door open and walked out onto the street.

Congrats! So proud of you! he texted her back, with a ton of hearts and smiles. He really was, and it made him feel warm as he slipped his phone back into his pocket and crossed the street.

He always walked to and from work, even when it was freezing cold or pouring rain. Partly because he cared about the environment, but mostly because he wasn't able to afford a car. Walking was inconvenient sometimes, but more and more lately he realized how much he really enjoyed it.

His little house that he shared with a few friends was on the other side of the city park, so he always walked through it when he could. Sometimes he took pictures there and put them up on his blog - a blog which was read by about 3 people every month, so essentially, a blog no one knew about. Unlike most people, though, he wasn't doing it for attention; he was doing it because he loved sending genuine stuff out into the world. There wasn't much of it otherwise.

He got onto the little dirt path that went through the park, through some flower gardens whose fragrance filled the air with sweetness. There, he always stopped and took a few deep breaths before continuing.

The path went over a creek, where there were often turtles, and in the springtime, ducklings. Today, just an old box turtle sunning on a rock, and that was it.

There was a lawn in the very center of the park, and he reached this lawn eventually, the grass sprinkled with dandelions and clover. As he was crossing the field to reach the other flower gardens and the way out of the park, something caught his eye.

A flower crown, sitting there nestled among the grass. A little wilted, but still beautiful.

He picked it up and examined it. Who would make a handmade crown this pretty and just leave it in the middle of a park?

He slipped it around his head and walked off, not caring who saw.