Late Night Coffee {H.S}

One

Chapter One: A cold night in New York City

The wind whistles through my braids, massaging my sore scalp and effectively sending a chill down my spine. I pull my tattered jacket around my body as I make my way to my destination. The bright blue neon sign hanging above the door invites me in, so I grab the smooth handle and pull. I'm immediately grateful for the heat that hugs and surrounds me, but the warmth isn't the only thing that welcomes me; The aroma of the delicious treats and numerous flavors of coffee do, too.

There's the typical ding that you'd expect from a place as quaint and cute as this. I take in my surroundings as the warmth and smell continue to dance around me, teasing my stomach, reminding me of just how hungry I am. The theme of blue, black, and white- of nighttime, is clear and the ceiling is filled with shimmering lights that I assume are meant to resemble stars in a night's sky. The place does the perfect job of providing a comforting feel and I find myself happy that I discovered it on my random search for food.

I notice that there are only two other people in the place- one being a worker and the other a boy, sitting lone in one of the midnight blue plush booths.  He has a dark beanie on and from what I can see, a bright yellow hooded sweatshirt on with writing on the back but I can't see what from my location in the diner.

"Um, hello," I address the cashier shyly. It's just something odd about talking to someone so late at night. It was 12:32 am last time I checked, before I left my apartment, and that was about 15 minutes ago so it was nearly 1 am. I know if I was working here, I wouldn't want someone talking to me at such an intimate hour, but she's here for a reason- to take my order. I'm thinking too much into this. I realize this as she gives me a kind smile and I notice that she's an older lady. There's no hostility or anger in her eyes or her smile meaning she doesn't mind that I'm here, maybe she's happy to have a customer, someone to talk to.

"What can I help you with, dear?" She asks me in a voice as warm as honey. I can already tell from the warmth of the shop, the different smells it produces, and the sweet cashier, that I will frequent this place often.

I look over the different options written in chalk on the chalkboard that hangs behind the counter. I then look down at the glass display, home to a multitude of different cakes, chocolates and candies. "I'd like a slice of chocolate cake." I tell her, my eyes settling on a slice with the perfect ratio of cake and icing. My mouth waters at the sight.

"Any coffee for you today?" She asks after she retrieves the cake.

"No, I'm not a big fan of coffee." I watch as she places the slice on a freshly cleaned plate and adds a wrapped, plastic fork next to it.

"What about some hot chocolate then?" She suggests.

"That's a lot of chocolate, don't you think?" I actually don't mind, because I love chocolate but I don't want her to think that I'm greedy. I don't know why the opinion of this random old lady matters to me, she's been nothing but sweet. This is the type of behavior I wanted to leave back home but it seems that I haven't knocked the habit just yet.

"There's no such thing." She assures me with a smile, so I agree.

A steaming mug of hot cocoa is placed next to the chocolate cake and I reach for my wallet in my pocket. "How much do I owe you?" I ask her.

"Oh, it's on the house, dear."

"No, I can't do that!" I say, shocked, This type of behavior never occurred back home in Philadelphia, nothing was ever free so this sudden favor confuses me.

"Don't worry about it. Rarely anyone comes in at night so when they do, everything is on the house. You can leave a tip if you'd like, though." She gives me a warm smile and I agree, placing a five dollar bill in the glass with a label with TIPS written on it in shaky handwriting.