Open Doors

Sweat is forming under the many layers of stage make up that is caked on to my face. In any other environment I would probably pass as a clown, but it's just the right amount for the over powering spot lights that will be tamed on me any minute now. My heart beat quicken as I hear my name called. This feeling will never go away, the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I walk on stage. My mind races as I take in the crowd. But my brain finds one memory in particular. The memory that started it all.

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The over powering aroma of crushed coffee beans and biscuits filled my nose, as I joined others in the small town coffee shop. Fixing my wondering guitar case strap, I turned around and gazed over at the white wonderland that filled Londons busy streets. A thick white power covered everything-buildings decorated with red and green, women arms filled with shopping bags from last minute toy grabbing, children passing time by making a snow angle family. Everything was white, it was pure beauty. I absolutely love this time of year, everyone is so joyful and families come so close together. 

A shiver ran down my back and I felt tiny bumps form on my skin under the many jumpers I wore. Rubbing my arms gently up and down, I turned and sonterd over to the smiling Batista. Flipping her long blonde ponytail behind her, she wiped her hands on her red apron and gave me a perfect white smile.  

"Hello, would you like the usual?" her think British accent sweetly said to me.  

"Oh, yes, please. It's very chilly outside so make it pretty hot." I shivered again. 

"Whip or no whip?" 

"Whip please," I flashed her my normal happy smile. "Oh, I would also like a blueberry muffin." She repeated my total and I handed her the amount. I waited in front of the counter as she worked getting my order ready-grabbing my muffin from the display case, placing it on the clean white plate that she snatched for the dishwasher. I heard a soft ding of the bell above the door indicating someone had come in. The noise didn't cause me to turn around. Probably just another cold soul waiting to order something hot and creamy. 

The Batista handed me my beautiful, perfectly baked blueberry muffin. Just looking at it made my mouth water. 

"Your drink will be ready in just a moment, I need to go to the back really quick to grab the cream." 

"Okay thank you." I gave her a warm smile as she disappeared into the back. I guess I will find some place to sit and enjoy my delicious muffin while I wait.  

Looking at my muffin, to make sure it didn't fall off the plate, I passed the person who only came in moments before. When I was sure my muffin wouldn't drop, I looked up and found that a table for two was open by the window. Ah, perfect, I can watch the busy streets if London while I eat my muffin. 

I gently place my muffin down on the old wooden table. I draped my overcoat on the back of the chair, and swiftly sat down in my seat. Turning to glance at the counter I bent down and retrieved my whole life from within the walls of the old tattered, brown leather case. The Batista returned to her place behind the counter and had already placed water on to warm. She was now serving the man that walked in after me. His light ginger hair fell in a way that made it look sorta fluffy. It wasn't styled or gelled like the other men had their hair now a days. His hair was actually quite messy in a just-got-out-of-bed-and-didn't-want-to-comb-it way. The look fit him very well, especially with his thick side burns that descend down into the little hairs that cover his chin. All together he was rather fit. 

I turned back to my guitar and heard the bell above the door ding again, but I was to focused on the melody I was creating within my finger tips. I started mumbling the words that suddenly formed in my head. I was snapped out of my musical trance when I heard something set on my table. Opening my eyes I saw a blue mug of hot chocolate with a Cinnamon stick popping out from within the thick whipped cream that covered the top, setting on a saucer in front of me.