i returned the following evening. a spring in my step.
the bell on the door jingled a little as i did so.
fleur already had my coffee with a little dusting of a teddy bear on top, and a peach scone on the counter.
i thanked her and took my fresh food and hot drink to my table.
there was still a light chatter. an old couple sat in the corner and a younger boy sat typing at his laptop on a stool.
i took out my notebook and continued on my song.
until around three coffees later, i felt the dip in the couch as fleur sunk down next to me.
"hey"
she mumbled a barely audible hey in response.
"why do you work so late if it makes you so tired?"
"my grandmother owns the place. i'm the only worker, as you know. she leaves early, like 9:30, for treatment and returns at 7, when the shop opens. i have to clean up and do the dishes and things"
"what does she do?"
"bakes"
"really? she's amazing"
"she's obsessed with making scones. it's ridiculous"
i smiled at her giggles.
"but yeah. she's pretty amazing"
"you're pretty amazing"
