Diva
Alla strode into the coffee shop like a fabulous vision, spreading vibes of attractive femininity all around. She was followed by the viscous sweet aroma of French perfume, mixed with the natural smell of her body, skin, and hair.
Pausing on the threshold for a moment, the black-eyed beauty looked around as if maximizing the visual impact of her arrival. Her entrance was genuinely striking and even grand, but there was no one to enjoy this spectacle: the cafe was almost empty, and only a young waitress was languidly bored in some distance.
A tinge of disappointment covered Alla's pretty little face. However, the girl quickly handled herself, portrayed a charming smile, and walked to the bar with a dancing gait. Captivating and alluring, she resembled a firebird: a bright, spectacular, and, alas, mythical creature... yes, yes, mythical, because SUCH women don't exist in the real world, nor should they.
She was close to ideal, and each of her features was brought to perfection: sensual full lips, swarthy gilded skin, moist expressive eyes, smooth, pitch hair... A fur stole was thrown over the girl's shoulders, diamonds shone in her ears, and a narrow, expensive, low-cut outfit embraced her chiseled silhouette. Slender without thinness, dainty like a porcelain figurine, Alla looked beautiful; most importantly, she knew how to present herself. She captured the imagination of those around her and left no one indifferent. She was noticed in any crowd, even the most colorful. And today, too, Alla didn't go unnoticed. The girl smiled smugly, seeing the insatiable curiosity in the brown eyes of an ordinary, unremarkable waitress who couldn't help but admire such a diva.
"I'll have a cappuccino," Alla asked with a pleasant contralto and smiled softly. She never ordered, only requested, which was more feminine and much more effective (with the right tone of voice).
Stunned by the client's beauty, the waitress silently fulfilled the order; she even forgot to pronounce her duty phrases.
"Thank you!" Alla said in a melodious voice, taking a cup, and went to a table in the center of the room, the least favorite place of most visitors. But Alla never belonged to the average majority. At this table in the very center, she was much more noticeable... and why complicate the task for people? Let them enjoy her beauty freely!
A cappuccino was served, and Alla began her show ‘I-Am-Enjoying-A-Cup-Of-Coffee’. She didn't drink so much as she posed and only regretted the small number of spectators. The girl had to be content with the timid admiration in the eyes of a pimply-faced boy who was eating his burger alone. It was better than nothing.
Alla came here out of boredom. For a week now, she had been sitting at home while the girl longed to go out; she loved to shine in society and be surrounded by lustful men! Alas, her husband couldn't give her what she wanted. Being a wealthy man, he was constantly busy and had no appetite for social life. So his charming wife had to appear in public with her girlfriends. In recent weeks, however, girlfriends had refused to spend time together, too: perhaps they finally realized how bleak they looked next to Alla with her gorgeous appearance. Trying to get by with simple amusements, the girl languished in beauty salons and fitness clubs for many hours, but this wasn't enough for her. That's why she finally decided to lift her mood with a trivial visit to a cafe.
Among the people watching this lonely, desperate show were the waitpersons: the already mentioned young girl and a tall, thin boy of student years.
"Well, an interesting lady," he muttered, shaking his head. "Quite a funny one!"
The waitress looked at him in surprise.
"Isn't she beautiful?" She said enviously and added with jealousy: "Pretty as a picture."
"The picture, that's it," the guy didn't argue with her. "Such a picture is pleasant to admire... nothing more." He paused, studying the fabulous and chic brunette, after which he remarked with contempt: "Diva!"
And this last simple word sounded like a ruthless sentence.
Beautiful Life
Andrew Smith entered Confetti with a confident step and a big smile on his face. After a long absence (almost a month!), he found himself missing this coffee shop.
The cafe didn't seem to have changed in the past 28 days. It was still the same cozy room, painted in pastel beige colors and filled with a strong coffee aroma. It was as if Andrew had been gone for hours instead of weeks.
"Mr. Smith!" The miniature waitress Tina, dressed in a light brown uniform, rushed to him, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. "We had no news of you for some time."
Andrew nodded, hiding a mocking smile. "Losing such a client is worth worrying about!" He thought with some inner satisfaction.
"Is my table free?" The guy asked in a businesslike manner, heading for the spiral staircase leading to the second floor.
"Yes, it's empty!" The waitress confirmed cheerfully; she was following him on the heels. "I'll bring you the menu in a minute..."
"No need," Andrew rejected her offer, his voice sounding slightly dismissively. He was settling down at his favorite table, hidden by an exquisite screen from prying eyes. "Bring me something with vegetables and perhaps a dorado. And, of course, espresso."
"Will Greek salad as a vegetable dish do?" The girl inquired in a friendly tone, beaming with a professional smile.
"Good choice," Andrew answered self-importantly. He relaxed, leaning back on the comfortable sofa. "But hurry up, okay, Tina?"
"Sure!" She paused briefly and then added with ill-concealed curiosity: "Where have you been all this time? Or is it a secret?"
"It's not a secret," the guy said calmly. He enjoyed feeling like a "big shot." "I was in France with my girlfriend."
Tina listened to him eagerly and longingly, probably, jealous of his girlfriend. Or rather, "another girlfriend", since Andrew changed them with depressing regularity... and he took each to visit his favorite cafe. All his fleeting passions looked "expensive," well-groomed, chic; but, objectively speaking, none possessed phenomenal external data. "I'm quite awesome too!" Tina thought; this idea was imprinted on her pretty face. "So why can't he choose me? If he dresses me up… I’ll look no worse!"
Andrew watched her with irony; he perfectly understood her train of thought. This not-so-bad-looking girl was hardly in love with him, oh, no! She loved the wonderful life she believed he could give her (and her feeling was still unrequited, one-sided: the imaginary life didn't love her back!). Tina dreamed not about him, Andrew, but about dinners in expensive restaurants, social events, traveling the world... She longed to wear chic clothes and receive luxurious gifts. And the poor thing didn't suspect that the medal had a downside. She didn't know that all of Andrew's girlfriends had to conform to his idealized model of the perfect woman. For example, he didn't tolerate female tears; he was constantly busy and quickly lost his temper. He always expected to get what he wanted from his chosen woman, no matter what it was about, while the girl had no say in any matter. Moreover, his sweetheart had to put up with his antics and do so gladly, with a shining smile. And surely, she had to look her best even if the situation didn't exactly call for it.
Tina had no idea about the fly in the ointment, so to speak. She saw a stylishly dressed young man of pleasant appearance and passionately dreamt of being a part of his beautiful life... unaware of the natural payback.
"I'm waiting, Tina," Andrew reminded her sternly.
Embarrassed, Tina began fussing around; soon, she was already rushing to fulfill the order of the Best Client.
Well, in that sense, he, Andrew, was definitely the best. He’s used to spending days and nights in this cafe and tipping generously. In Confetti, he had business conversations, dined with friends, and enjoyed cozy evenings with girlfriends. Andrew behaved in Confetti like a Master and considered the waitpeople as servants. So Tina didn't have the slightest chance to win his heart: they were on opposing sides of the tracks separating his picturesquely beautiful life from her ordinary and boring existence.
Dream Fulfillment
Alice entered this cafe not without an inner thrill and flutter. No wonder since she was about to find herself in the holy of holies, namely, in an actual Parisian coffee house... which meant a long-awaited opportunity to enjoy the famous French coffee. A skeptic would no doubt notice that French coffee is hardly exceptional in taste… but Alice thought just the opposite. It was Paris, real Paris, for God's sake!
“Well, Paris, so what?” The imaginary skeptic continued arguing with her. “Bad coffee is bad everywhere!”
“You understand nothing!” Alice would object. “It’s a Parisian cafe and Parisian coffee!”
It had a very special meaning to her. She was in love with Paris as if woven from mystery and romance. Sparkling with the magic gilding, the Great City taught her to believe in the Dream...
Alice cherished the hope of visiting a Parisian cafe and ordering a cappuccino for a long time. She imagined herself slowly sipping a hot, fragrant drink and looking thoughtfully out the window, where fabulous Paris stretched. In her dreams, this picture seemed delightfully beautiful, refined, and touching. And the girl was worried that reality would deceive her expectations. However, so far, everything had been going well, almost perfect…
The coffee shop she chose was small and cozy, decorated in warm walnut tones. A thick, rich coffee aroma was in the air, and an unobtrusive French melody sounded, mixed with cheerful multilingual remarks of surrounding people. Despite many visitors, there were still several unoccupied tables, and Alice took the one near the window.
"Сappuccino, please," Alice asked the waiter approaching her and added apologetically: "Sorry, I don't speak French!"
"One moment, ma'am!" He answered respectfully in English. "Maybe you want a dessert? We have wonderful cakes!"
His English had a distinct French accent, which was another touch to her dream picture and supplemented the image of a peaceful Parisian coffee shop. After all, this is precisely the manner of speaking you expect from French waitpersons!
“Leave the menu, please; I’ll have a look,” Alice asked with deliberate casualness, enjoying the softness of his speech.
The waiter gave her an exquisite leather cover menu, bowed, and departed. Left alone, Alice started turning the thick, yellowish pages decorated with an elegant ligature, which she did with some leisure. The girl felt suddenly happy; she was happy here and now, genuinely and unconditionally.
Alice imagined what she looked like from the outside: a slender white-skinned blonde with gray eyes and short curls sits at a cozy table by the window and absently flips through the menu. This picturesque fantasy inspired her heart and made it ache.
"I am in Paris!" She wanted to scream. "I'm drinking coffee in Paris! I've been dreaming about this for so long..."
Yes, that's right. Instead of dreaming of Versailles or the Eiffel Tower, she longed to sit in a Parisian coffee house with a cup of flavored drink. She dreamed of enjoying fragrant coffee with her Fairy City shining outside the window. It was nice to know that the Louver, Montmartre, the Arc de Triomphe, and other Parisian wonders were no longer just postcard images but real-world objects which she could see and even touch if desired.
They say that a dream come true leads to sadness. Well, Alice did feel a little sad... but it was light, tender sadness. In the end, Paris managed to live up to her most daring expectations, which mattered most. Her efforts weren't in vain; they weren't just thrown away. All she imagined and anticipated became a reality.
Happy Day
Cyril tenderly looked at Oksana, admiring her with genuine pleasure. A slender white-skinned blonde, she resembled an exquisite flower - perhaps a lily - and was pretty even in such an unassuming outfit as jeans and a jacket. A bunch of short curls, laughing grey-blue eyes, a chiseled nose: everything about her seemed to be flawless. At least, that's what Cyril thought.
They got married eight years ago, being very young, almost children. And although much water had passed under the bridge since then, Cyril still loved his wife... and hoped (no, believed!) that she loved him back.
Cyril gently squeezed Oksana's hand and smiled affectionately at her. They decided to spend this Saturday at their pleasure and forget all worries and anxieties for a while. The sun shone brightly, trying to fill the elegant streets with its sluggish, fading warmth. Cold days were approaching, the air was filled with a sharp coolness, but summer hadn't changed into autumn completely… not yet, anyway.
"The last warm day..." muttered Oksana thoughtfully. "Soon, the slush and cold will start again. And we'll have to wait for spring to come."
"But today, the weather is beautiful," Cyril whispered, putting his arm around his wife's shoulders and kissing her temple. "Let's enjoy this day. Only you, me, and Maxim."
Maxim was their six-year-old son. He was childishly restless and cheerful, a thin, short-haired, fair-skinned boy, not knowing yet that fate could sometimes be unfair and strict. For him, life was still a series of bright emotions and pleasant surprises.
Oksana's gaze passed over her son; tenderness and love gleamed in her eyes. The young woman ran her fingers through Maxim's blond hair and looked at her husband again:
"Yes, let's enjoy every minute of this day!" She agreed cheerfully, snuggling with Cyril's shoulder. "Shall we take a walk?"
"Surely! Why not?" Her husband responded and grinned broadly.
* * *
Forty minutes later, excited by the walk along the sunny boulevard, the young couple stopped by the Coffee House, a small cozy establishment where everyone ordered their favorite drink. Oksana chose cappuccino, Cyril preferred espresso, and Maxim got hot chocolate.
Thoughtfully stirring the thick milk foam covering the coffee, Oksana looked askance at her handsome husband and recalled the years spent together.
The future spouses met in their immature student days and liked each other at first sight. Cyril began to court a gentle smiling girl who was flattered by his attention, as he was pretty popular among them. After a short time, they got married.
A lot had happened since then! For a while, they had to live in a hostel and almost starve from time to time. Later came more well-fed and prosperous days... then their baby appeared, their charming Max. Eh, what else to say?! They lived, lived the best they could!
They quarreled violently and no less passionately reconciled. Several times Oksana pretended to leave him (somewhat demonstratively)... of course, she always came back. Yeah, a lot had happened in these eight years: slamming doors, huge bouquets, romantic evenings, sick days... And it was only the beginning! After all, their whole life was ahead of them.
What awaits them with Cyril? Lovely old age together? Or, God forbid, separation and divorce? Hopefully, they're lucky and can carry their feelings through the decades. Who knows?
“Mom, can I have some more?” Maxim asked loudly; the boy had already finished his glass of hot chocolate and looked at his mother with pleading eyes.
And his thin boyish voice reminded the young woman of the main thing: the family she and Cyril managed to create and the mutual trust they had kept all these eight years.
Oksana caught her husband's gaze. Cyril smiled at her, his eyes laughing.
"It doesn't matter what awaits us tomorrow!" Oksana thought merrily and smiled back at her husband. "The main thing is that here and now, we feel good!"
It was a happy day for their family. And these magical moments were worth everything the couple had to endure for them…
Game Worth the Candles
Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Oleg, Alice closed her eyes for a moment. She loved these early days of relationships when things just started happening, and it's all new... when you still believed that the candy-bouquet period would last for a long, long time... perhaps it would never end.
"But the idyll will come to an end, of course," Alice added mentally, with skepticism. "Everything comes to an end sooner or later…"
Oleg's next comment seemed to confirm this far-from-romantic thought:
"I'll come out for a quick cigarette... I'll be right back."
They ate at a non-smoking cafe, so nicotine addicts had to go outside to enjoy a cigarette. However, Alice didn't mind being alone for a couple of minutes.
After following with her gaze the guy going out, she hastily took out a compact and examined her reflection in a tiny mirror. A young woman with a finely drawn face and sparkling black eyes cast a sharp glance at her from the looking-glass world.
Alice knew that not everyone saw her as beautiful, but she didn't worry about it. She always stood out in the crowd with her striking and catchy appearance: royal posture, thin figure, blue-black hair falling like two smooth wings to her fragile shoulders, dark velvety skin... Being in her late thirties (and looking her age), she remained attractive, as she belonged to those lucky women who get even more charm in maturity.
Noticing Oleg at the cafe door, Alice hid the powder and smiled at her companion crossing the hall.
He was the same height as her, athletically built, with a strong expressive face and a bob cut to hide early bald patches. Yes, the guy wasn't classically handsome, but, like his girlfriend, he had charm. And that's the main thing, right?
"Let's have another round, shall we?" Oleg suggested, nodding at the empty cups. "Or maybe you'd like something different? Like cake or ice cream?"
"Yes, perhaps," said Alice thoughtfully. "I'll have tiramisu."
Oleg went off to make an order, and Alice suddenly felt sad. She wasn't 18 or 25; she was 28! Behind were numerous love failures. Why did she think it would be different this time? And even if she and Oleg reached the most dizzying stage (the marriage one!), nothing would change. Marriage was hardly equal to happiness, love to the grave, and other immortal postulates. So was the game worth the candle?
At that moment, a saucer with a piece of tiramisu landed on the table, and Oleg was again next to Alice.
"You know," he whispered in her ear, putting his arm around her waist, "since we met, I’ve become much happier... much, much happier!"
Feeling the persistent and gentle touch of Oleg's hands and his hot breath, listening to the sound of his voice, Alice realized that everything she had thought about just a minute ago didn't matter. The game was always worth the candle!
"And this time, it will be different," the young woman told herself firmly.
An insightful inner voice (which often sounded somewhat arrogant and haughty) snorted derisively in response, but Alice didn't care to listen to it. After all, this inner genius could be wrong, too... So why not now?
Valentine's Day, or Declaration of Love
Pasha entered the cafe with some trepidation. Of course, he'd been to Coffee Life before, but now the visit had a special meaning: the guy wanted to see whether this institution was worthy of his Great Mission! 
The young man lingered at the threshold for a while and looked around anxiously. Today the café wasn't crowded, and only one table was occupied.
"I wish it was the same tomorrow!" The visitor thought hopefully and crossed the room, heading to the bar.
"I'll have an Americano with milk," he asked curtly, not noticing the mocking curiosity in the waitress's eyes. Clearly, she thought the strange client was a freak.
Five minutes later, Pasha was sitting at one of the tables and nervously looked around the room, squeezing a hot cup in his restless palms.
Heavy dark-wood furniture... coffee-colored walls... soft twilight... muffled music... Everything was just right! The words of love spoken here would weave themselves into the atmosphere unobtrusively, and it would be impossible to answer them with a refusal!
“And why, in fact, should she refuse me?” Pasha thought irritably. “She loves me, oh yes, she does!”
The guy put his hand to the breast pocket: there, closer to his heart, a small velvet box was hidden from prying eyes; its snow-white silk bowels concealed a wedding ring. And it seemed to Pavel that he felt not his heartbeat but the whisper of the life of this marvelous scarlet casket...
"She will say yes," Pasha thought confidently, closing his eyes while his hand was absently stroking the cherished box through the fabric of his jacket. In his mind, the guy saw pictures of the past filled with happiness, the main character of which was a fair-haired young woman with bright green eyes and a narrow face. Not being pretty according to the adopted canons of beauty, she attracted people with a certain hidden charisma. And for Pavel, she was the most charming in the world!
"Are you quite well?" Someone's alarmed voice reached him, tearing Pavel out of his dreamy world.
Pasha reluctantly opened his eyes and found the waitress next to him.
"What do you mean?" He asked, trying to focus his eyes on the face of the young woman.
"You look sick… unwell…”
He blinked in surprise. Sick? Why sick? On the contrary, he felt better than ever! After all, he was looking forward to a magical YES, which would open the doors to a new wonderful life.
"You sit with your eyes closed and hold your hand to your heart," the waitress explained. "I'm sorry if I interrupted..."
"It's okay, it's all right," the guy muttered embarrassedly, taking his hand off his chest in haste. "Just a moment of weakness..."
The waitress left, her whole appearance showing excessive skepticism. Left alone, Pasha leaned back and tried to relax again.
"Tomorrow, February 14, Valentine's Day, I will tell Linda about my feelings and propose to be my wife," he said firmly to himself. "And she will answer me with YES!"
Pasha smiled, imagining her incredible malachite-colored eyes lighting up and her usually pale cheeks getting a charming blush. The guy felt a poignant, piercing, boundless happiness. The only thing spoiling his mood was the nascent understanding that this sweet moment could never happen again! It'll never repeat itself. Never.
But here and now, he loved, and it was mutual. Nothing else mattered.
A Piece of Colorful Life
The first snow crunched under the heels of her boots, shimmered in the winter sun with dazzling sparks, formed magnificent hats on the branches of trees... It powdered the streets with a flickering snow cover resembling a silver-plated canvas and joyfully shone with all the colors of the rainbow… Helen carefully, fearing to slip, stepped on this cold white coverlet and absent-mindedly observed the world around her, so elusively beautiful and fragile.
Actually, she didn't tend to have such a romantic mood; it was hardly in her nature. Usually, Helen was too fixated on herself and her own life (its negative aspects) to notice anything beyond her imaginary or quite real problems. But now, she sincerely admired everything she saw.
Helen went to her favorite cafe, Coffee Life, a few minutes from work. She planned to spend her lunch break here enjoying a cup of coffee, which had long been her pleasant daily tradition.
"Big latte without syrup and other additives, right?" The young waitress smiled at her, thus demonstrating that she knew the preferences of regular customers.
Helen smiled tightly. Indeed, it's flattering to be remembered, but, frankly, she would have preferred incognito, as she couldn't stand annoying attention... even in such a courteous form. Well, she had no choice but to put up with it.
Helen was a slender young woman with long blond hair streaming down her back to a thin waist. She had a stretched face, expressive gray-blue eyes that many considered sad or frightened, and a slightly crooked nose. Not being among the beauties in the true sense, she was nevertheless quite pretty... especially in those, alas, rare moments when she smiled and enjoyed life. And this was one of those times: perhaps because the girl sincerely loved her “coffee rituals.”
The coffee tradition had its history. It started a few months ago when Helen came to the disappointing conclusion that her life was too monotonous and boring. The girl longed for bright emotions and new experiences but received nothing of the sort. Day after day, she sadly followed the same route: home-work-home... sometimes meetings with her only friend diluted the routine. And she wanted something colorful, perhaps even outrageous! To this end, Helen decided to spend her lunch breaks in cafes like Coffee Life. Everything seemed perfect here: soothing music was playing, the waiters were smiling courteously, the aroma of coffee was filling the air... Immersing herself in the atmosphere of relaxing comfort, the girl felt involved in a very special world: a world where people loved living their lives.
With a plastic spoon, Helen scooped up the soft milk foam that topped her drink. She delicately licked off this airy mass, which reminded her of white snowdrifts outside the window, and shifted her gaze to the electronic book page. She was feeling at ease.
"It's a pity that everything comes to an end sooner or later…" She thought sadly.
Yes, everything ends. And soon, she'll have to return to her boring world, to her dull life.
"But from here, from the coffee-scented room, the world doesn't seem so boring," Helen suddenly decided and gave herself a charming smile. "And while I'm drinking coffee here, I can consider my life bright too... albeit just a little."
She still had 15 minutes left to enjoy this vibrant, colorful life... not so bad, if you think about it!
Business Person, or Very Busy Man
Michael was constantly busy; at least, he sincerely believed in it and often repeated his catchphrase: "I don't have free time!". These words had already become an ironic saying among his friends, who secretly laughed at him. Such good-natured ridicule was by no means surprising: after all, even a visit to some cozy coffee shop forced Michael to come up with a worthy excuse (like a business meeting).
And today he went to Friend's Time not just to relax, oh no! Allegedly, he was going to wait for an important call in comfort. The logic was clear: why freeze on the street caught by the first frost when you can be in the warm cafeteria room?
This call wasn't an invention; however, judging objectively, it hardly required such a ritual of tremulous expectation. But Michael did want to sit in a cafe and needed a compelling reason to make it happen.
He ordered the unchanging drink (a cup of black americano) and crossed the cafeteria with his usual busy step. After taking a lone table in the very corner, the guy buried himself in the iPhone, which had long turned into his best, albeit electronic, friend.
Michael was under thirty but looked much older than his age, although he was pretty handsome. Above average height, fit, gray-eyed, with close-cropped blond hair and delicate features, he gave the impression of a polished intellectual. Unfortunately, the mask of eternal concern added a touch of tragedy and coldness to the guy's appearance. Choosing discreet, uniform-like outfits, Michael was always "buttoned up," figuratively and literally. He didn't let anyone get close enough to him.
Coffee was served, and the guy, taking a cup, allowed himself a hurried look around the room. At the table nearby, he noticed a pretty fair-haired girl in a black dress. Catching his glance, the female stranger smiled with her eyes as if beckoning, but Michael didn't respond to her silent invitation. He didn't like meeting women on the street or in cafes, as he couldn't behave with natural casualness and ease. Michael explained it differently, though: "I'm too busy for new acquaintances. I have no time for dating. I am a business person."
Michael tried to focus on his email, but a few new messages, none of which really mattered, failed to capture his attention. The guy involuntarily looked askance at the girl at the next table. He was sure he attracted her too. Why else would she keep giving him meaningful glances?
"Even the busiest people are entitled to their own private lives," he suddenly thought. "Everyone should have a loved one."
He broke up with his last girlfriend a month ago: she couldn't stand his gloominess, restraint, and excessive workaholism. Michael still remembered her voice ringing with anger when she, packing things, explained that she was tired of their relationship. "You are never here, never available… at least, for me!"
What if this seemingly lovely young lady at the next table, who drinks her coffee with such taste, also turns out to be a self-obsessed hysteric? Same as his ex? Why waste time and risk?
"Yes, she is good-looking…" Michael thought, casting another glance at the charming neighbor. "But I'm busy… I'm waiting for a call!"
This excuse wasn't as pathetic as attempts to avoid the risk, but it was still an excuse. For the first time in his life, Michael almost admitted that the real reason was the fear of change. The discovery was humiliating and provoked a note of protest in him. The guy felt the urge to act precisely the opposite of what he was used to.
"I'll just come to her and offer to treat her to another cup of coffee," Michael repeated mentally, examining the pretty stranger. "I'll do it right now…"
He got up, preparing to go "on the offensive," but his phone had chosen that very moment to wake up to life and start ranging. Oddly enough, Michael was relieved.
"Well, I told you so!" He concluded with satisfaction, leaning back in his easy chair again. "I'm a businessman! I don't have time for anything other than my job."
Just Loneliness
Sergey entered the cafe Friend’s Time with a positive step and a broad smile on his face. He seemed to be happy with everything and enjoying his life.
"Good morning!" He said loudly and confidently, addressing no one in particular.
At this early hour, the café was half empty, with only a few tables occupied by sleepy visitors snoozing over their cups. Besides, a young, pretty waitress was languishing at the bar, hiding involuntary yawns. Those present reacted rather sluggishly to the loud greeting of the dark-haired, narrow-faced guy. However, the lack of enthusiasm didn’t discourage him, and he stalked to the bar as if nothing had happened.
“Hi, Tina,” Sergey said to the waitress. “I'll have a cappuccino…”
"And a big ham sandwich," she finished with a sour smile. “One minute!”
Of course, the waitress remembered him: he visited this cafe almost every day and always ordered the same thing. And yet, Sergey was flattered by her attention, no matter how insignificant it was... he wanted to believe that Tina wasn't just following the instructions obliging her to "please customers," but showing sincere, friendly sympathy. After all, he must have friends too!
Sergey settled in at one of the tables and prepared to enjoy his sandwich and cappuccino. In doing so, the guy glanced around the room, looking for familiar faces. The young man knew the regulars quite well and rejoiced at seeing a person with whom he had once crossed paths here as if this fact alone made the stranger his friend.
Friend! Such a magic word… Sergey suppressed a sigh. He can't break down, not now! He must remain firm, even if it’s difficult at times.
All his relatives lived in a remote village, while he moved to the Big City about half a year ago. And today, almost six months later, he still felt lonely, having failed to find real buddies so far. His character and inability to attract people were to blame, apparently. And sometimes he did want to feel that he had real friends too!
Perhaps that's why Friend's Time appeared in Sergey's life. Such a symbolic, sonorous, meaningful name! Only here, in this cozy establishment, did he manage to believe in his own "necessity".
Sergey pushed these sad thoughts away and switched to his breakfast. However, the guy ate in an unusual way and was constantly distracted: he smiled at new visitors, greeted some of them, and even exchanged a few words with a couple of frequenters. They looked at Sergey in surprise, but he seemed not to notice anything.
His unusual behavior caught the attention of the waitpeople, who had been ironically watching the weird guy for 10 minutes.
"Freak!" The waitress Tina mockingly remarked. "Eccentric!"
"No..." Her colleague replied with a slight sadness. "It's not about eccentricity or being a freak, no. It's just loneliness."
A Free Spirit
Micha stretched sweetly and lazily, thinking it was time to ask for another coffee. Or tea. Or just mineral water. These were the "rent" conditions: like it or not, make an order once in a while! However, Micha didn't object, at least not yet.
Micha was a sturdy, heavily-built, browned-haired guy under 30 and of medium height. He had thick curly hair and a soft round face with a deceptively sleepy expression. Not handsome but charming, he was pretty successful with women and had plenty of female attention.
By profession, Micha was a freelance copywriter. A couple of years ago, he quit his job at a prestigious branding studio where he created text content for the "big shots" and decided to work for himself. The guy started looking for clients on his own - people who needed good writing - and never regretted his decision. At first, he used his apartment as an office, but the monotonous "home" life bored him to death. That's why six months later, Micha chose to work in a cafe from time to time. And the idea proved to be good.
So now, one of his three favorite coffee shops served as an office (on those days when he didn't feel like staying at home): Coffee Life, Friend's Time, or Confetti. The invigorating aroma of freshly brewed coffee hovered in them, an unobtrusive melody sounded, and an atmosphere of soft comfort and coziness prevailed.
The guy came to the "coffee office" closer to 10 am, had a quick breakfast, and got to work. He ordered coffee or tea from time to time, dined at two or three in the afternoon, and left the hospitable establishment after 6 pm. Sometimes he stayed longer; it all depended on the work to be done.
At first, the waitpeople looked askance at such a strange regular but got used to his company after a while. And Micha himself developed a taste for this free life and frankly enjoyed it. It had a touch of romance! He especially liked watching the visitors during their brief moments of rest; a variety of faces gave food for thought and sometimes aroused his inspiration.
And now, too, Micha took a moment to assess the situation. In the distance, a charming girl was slowly sipping a cappuccino, her nose buried in a tablet; she didn’t seem to notice anyone... a little further, a young guy was quickly typing some text on a laptop (maybe also a freelancer?). And at the central table, two men were vigorously discussing some business, spreading documents around them and completely forgetting about the cooling tea...
At seven pm, Micha felt tired and decided to go home, although no one was waiting for him there, at least today. But sometimes it's so nice to be alone, just watching YouTube videos or Netflix series (or even flipping through a book, why not!).
"Will you come tomorrow?" A female voice asked him hopefully.
Micha smiled at a pretty young waitress. Was she interested in him?
"I don't know yet…" He answered absently, looking approvingly at her fine figure. "Maybe I will come..."
"Maybe not…" the guy added mentally. "I’ll decide tomorrow!"
He is, after all, a free spirit! And free spirits can do as they please.
Family Stories
If Coffee Life could talk, it would tell us a lot of exciting stories. Indeed, over the years, the walls of this cafe have heard the most ardent declarations of love, witnessed romantic marriage proposals, and watched passionate quarrels. And among other things, the cafe would share a very touching family story... story ten years long.
At the moment, the heroes of this story were sitting at the largest and most comfortable table of Coffee Life. There were four of them: a married couple and two kids. The fragile, fair-haired, amber-eyed woman happily smiled at her husband, a man of about 35, a tall, stately brunette with an expressive cheeky face. Their children, a seven-year-old, dark-haired boy with a mischievous look and a pretty girl in a flowery dress, chatted happily amongst each other, not forgetting to enjoy their ice cream too.
Ten years ago, this story had only two heroes: a young guy named Boris, a little insecure and timid, and his close friend Varya, an elegant and well-mannered girl, ready to smile at any moment. Every Sunday, they used to go to Coffee Life, the newly opened cafe, which was still shining with a fresh renovation. And the feeling of Boris and Varya was also new, fresh, and youthfully pure. It was all for the first time: the first kisses, the first love confessions... and, alas, the first disagreements. And a great deal of these things had been happening at Coffee Life.
Sunday dates in a cafe gradually became a delightful weekly tradition of a young couple... In Coffee Life, Boris said his first "I love you" to Varya, and she replied, "I love you too." In this cafeteria, they exchanged loving glances and happy smiles and kissed passionately when they thought no one was looking at them. And it was here that Boris offered Varya to become his wife, and of course, she gleefully accepted his proposal.
And then there was a wedding: not really lavish or big, but cheerful, promising them many joyful cloudless days ahead. And the newlyweds celebrated it in this very cafe, in Coffee Life. They invited only the closest people, those who sincerely loved them and worried about them.
As time passed, a lot had changed, except for one thing: every Sunday, Boris and Varya appeared in their favorite Coffee Life. After ordering coffee and dessert, they occupied a table in the coziest corner of the establishment and enjoyed a few hours together. The couple looked serenely happy and still in love as if they got married just yesterday.
Regulars to Coffee Life watched the development of their relationship. They saw how the first passion gave way to tender affection and how Varya and Boris became caring parents. Yes, Coffee Life's visitors witnessed a lot, but most importantly, they could see how much love family members had for each other.
This is how the loving couple lived for a long ten years... and with any luck, they had many more similar decades ahead of them. Nobody knows what the future holds, but everyone hopes for the best life scenario.
That's the family story the cafe would tell us… if, of course, it could talk.
A Fussy One
It was an early, cloudy Tuesday morning, another dull autumn day. Sitting at his favorite table at Coffee Life, Vadim was drinking espresso with deliberate leisure. He hoped he looked respectable and self-confident.
Vadim's desire to make a "respectable" impression arose when he realized that many considered him a fussy person. Vadim discovered this by chance after overhearing his patient's phone conversation (which happened inadvertently, of course). The said patient, a middle-aged woman, waited outside his office and spoke quite loudly.
"No, no, I'm still stuck in the corridor," an irritated female voice reached Vadim from the hall. "No, he doesn't have any patients right now. Only me. Oh, he isn't slow; on the contrary, he is terribly fussy! That's just the thing, you know! I've noticed that fussy people are doing everything longer!"
Vadim listened to her angry monologue with indignant bewilderment. Fussy?! He is an experienced dentist, an excellent specialist with a regular clientele! He can't be fussy! Nonsense! Or… maybe not?
And Vadim started questioning his friends. They hesitated, beating around the bush, but it was apparent that they fully shared the opinion of his capricious patient. Frustrated, Vadim decided to prove to everyone (and to himself) that he was by no means fussy. He is restrained, sedate, and respectable.
So now he tried to drink coffee without fuss and flip through the magazine's pages without his usual nervous haste. Of course, Vadim understood he attached too much importance to his client's remark, but he couldn't help himself. For the first time in his life, the dentist thought about how others saw him.
Judging objectively, Vadim didn't have a bright personality or at least an interesting appearance. He was completely ordinary: average height, lean physique, salt-and-pepper hair, an expressionless face... The usual appearance of a usual person.
Life circumstances weren't too original as well. Vadim was a reasonably successful forty-year-old dentist, an inveterate bachelor, living alone in his two-room apartment. Of the females, only a cat was constantly next to him, and even that one was taken off the street. The fluffy beauty always welcomed her master back from work and didn't seem offended by his reciprocal coldness and inability to show affection.
"I have an ordinary life," Vadim suddenly thought with surprise, taking another sip of coffee. "An ordinary appearance, an ordinary life… Am I an ordinary man? Ordinary and fussy?"
The discovery was highly unpleasant, even humiliating, and Vadim didn't want to put up with it.
"Tomorrow, I'll do something unusual," he finally decided. "Well, for example…"
There were no good ideas. Indeed, what should he do to impress people around him? Jump with a parachute? Quit his practical but boring job and retrain as some kind of fashion designer?
"Too reckless," Vadim concluded, not noticing that his movements had again become somewhat fussy. "Okay, doesn't matter; I'll come up with something spectacular later..."
The dentist put down his cup, got ready, and soon left the cafe (and acted, as before, very hastily). The entire coffee-drinking ceremony took no more than 15 minutes.
Vadim believed he was walking with a confident step and making the most favorable impression. Luckily, he didn't hear the two girls mockingly whisper after him: "What a fussy one!"
That's The Job!
"Have a good time!" Nina reprised her oft-rehearsed line, a tense smile on her lips, and watched the client stepping aside. But as soon as the visitor was out of sight, the girl stopped smiling, and traces of fatigue appeared on her pretty face. A sign of weakness was forgivable: after all, the autumn night had already been descending outside, another day of work belonged to the past.
Nina's duties could give the impression of being simple, which was hardly the case. The role of a waitress in Coffee Life was much more complicated than people far removed from the restaurant business thought. For example, the job required waitpersons to remain polite and radiate friendliness. They had to smile broadly under all circumstances, even when faced with the visitor's rudeness. And, of course, the waiter had to serve customers as quickly as possible and brew good coffee... which is simple only at first glance!
But now Nina had a moment of calm, which she used to get some rest. Heaving a sigh of relief, the girl tiredly leaned her elbows on the bar. She was still very young, thin as a reed, with small, inexpressive features and a smooth wall of brown hair. Nina was wearing a branded thick green apron, tightly hugging her chiseled forms and emphasizing her slim silhouette.
Her gaze started gliding around the room, stopping on one or another face from time to time. Some were quite familiar: the cafe was popular, and many people became its regulars. Nina wondered why they kept coming back. What were they looking for? Peace? Comfort? A short break? She guessed everyone had their own purpose. One thing was clear: she, Nina, had another role, an unpleasant one. She couldn't just lie back in her chair and wait for the coffee to be served... Unfair! She wouldn't mind relaxing and giving herself an hour of unhurried bliss with a cup of strong coffee.
The girl suppressed a sigh. Hopes, dreams... alas, they weren't destined to become a reality! Even in another cafe, she would only pretend to be a client.... she would become just a temporary visitor to this beautiful world of idlers.
To distract from sad thoughts, the pretty waitress looked around the cafe again. A true kaleidoscope of faces! And each hides its own story.
Take, for example, that young woman with long blond hair and sad eyes. She often comes to this cafe, orders her never-changing coffee latte, and spends forty minutes reading an eBook. What lies behind her silent visits? And why does she always look so melancholic? Who knows!
Or, for instance, the guy with a laptop. He visits Coffe Life almost every day and sits here until the very evening, asking for coffee, tea, or water from time to time. Apparently, he made Coffee Life a kind of “business office.” Free spirit! But why did he choose unreliable freedom instead of proven routine? Also, a mystery!
Or this beautiful couple... they came to visit infrequently, but when they did, they ordered a lot and were generous with tips. One could see that these two loved each other: he was gentle, attentive to her desires, and caring; she was charming, coquettish, sweet... Nina envied them and wondered how long their romantic idyll would last.
Three different stories. And Nina could finish each of them as she wanted and give the heroes fortunate or unfortunate life scenarios. That's how the girl loved passing her time during the most boring shifts, pushed by her vivid imagination. And in those moments, she felt like a true Puppet Master.
"Cappuccino for me!" A slightly irritated female voice reached Nina. "And hurry up!"
Nina shuddered, reluctantly returning to her dull reality: the world where she was neither the Author of other people's destinies nor the Puppeteer but a simple waitress in a popular cafe. Insignificant figure…
The world seemed to have faded, lost some of its colors.
"Do you want a cappuccino here or to go?" She asked colorlessly. She didn't have the strength to smile anymore.
Okay, she's just a waitress, so be it... But even her cloud has a silver lining: let’ say, why not play a Puppet Master again by giving this arrogant woman a story without a happy ending? Why not, for that matter? That's the job, after all!
Such Different Truths
Kate, a fragile brown-eyed woman, leaned towards her friend and touched her shoulder.
"Look, Mary, what a funny dude just came in!" She giggled.
Mary, a pretty blonde with a pleasantly plump figure, looked curiously at the cafe's doors.
"You're right," she drawled, and her juicy lips twitched into a grin. "Interesting guy..."
After sitting in Friend's Times for about half an hour, they started to get bored. So the appearance of a new character kicked in just in time to revive them and cheer them up a little.
And the character was truly impressive and worth attention! He was a guy of average height, thin, in a picturesque bright-colored outfit, heavily sprinkled with rhinestones and decorated with embroidery. His lightly curled hair reached his shoulders, with some strands dyed white or purple. Yes, this young man was a spectacular visitor!
"He's probably gay," Kate suggested confidently. Her eyes shone; this was the first time she saw an actual representative of sexual minorities.
"You think?" Mary asked doubtfully. "I guess he is straight."
"Would a straight man dress like that? Never!"
At another table, a middle-aged couple was also discussing the colorful visitor.
"Max, he looks weird," said a woman of about 45, casting a sidelong glance at the exotic guy, who had already settled down at the table and buried himself in his latest iPhone.
Max, a man in his fifties, looked wearily at his wife, whose appearance still bore a trace of the former attractiveness.
"He's metrosexual, I guess," he remarked wearily. "I heard about them."
"Metrosexual?" The word sounded intriguing, and the woman looked at the cafe visitor with even greater curiosity. "What does it mean?"
"Metrosexuals are men who attach an exaggerated importance to their appearance," came the businesslike reply. "They are similar to you, women, in this sense: metrosexuals, too, spend a lot of time and money perfecting their appearance... they like to look spectacular. But they are sexually normal males. That's what interests you, right? By the way, in the 19th century, metrosexuals existed too; they called them dandies."
This short lecture failed to impress the woman, who got bored at once and stopped listening to it at the third phrase.
The other cafe visitors were also animatedly discussing the unusual-looking guy. Followed by heated whispers and curious glances, the young man made his order and occupied one of the tables. It's hard to say if he felt the increased attention to himself: he gave no indication that he noticed this general interest and kept calmly eating his hamburger.
Let's unravel the secret: the remarkable visitor was Arthur, and he, of course, knew of being examined, studied, and discussed. This had always been the case, every time and everywhere! He also knew what labels they put on him: gay, metrosexual, a great lover of shocking the public, a freak. All these opinions had the right to life, but none corresponded to reality.
He wasn't by any means gay. Arthur was 100% straight.
Nor was he a metrosexual. If he had his way, Arthur would wear only gray and black!
He disliked shocking others, either. On the contrary, the intrusive attention irritated the guy and kept him pretty tense.
The truth was that Arthur worked as a graphic designer for a branding agency valuing creativity in its employees. The position was good, monetary, and exciting, but it also had disadvantages. For example, as a creative designer, he had to live up to the image of a non-standard-looking person... even if he would prefer a different style.
"Let them think what they want," Arthur said to himself, taking a sip of coffee. "Let them consider me metrosexual, gay or freak. After all, I know the truth! I know who I am. And anyway, the truth, it differs... and can come in many guises!"
Christmas Cafe, or That's What the Snow Maiden Promised
Mila believed that you should spend your Christmas morning doing nothing and just relaxing while watching TV shows and eating the remnants of high-calorie celebratory meals (those that you couldn’t cope with during a plentiful Christmas dinner the day before).
Usually, she managed to follow her simple plan, but this year things went wrong. As a result, on the morning of December 25, the girl ended up on the main street of the city, and all alone. Frozen and irritated, she desperately looked for some cozy place to warm up.
Despite her gloomy mood, Mila looked pretty now, with her radiant gray-green eyes and heart-shaped face, flushed from the cold and framed by tight red curls. The hem of a narrow emerald dress peeked out from under the beauty's short fur coat and revealed her chiseled legs. Long and slender, they convinced men that they should explore other parts of this slim body, too (now, alas, hidden by outerwear).
Mila drew attention to the ornate Christmas Cafe sign on a high oak door, to which three snow-covered steps led. The porch looked almost magical…
"I can't recall a cafe here..." The girl muttered, quite surprised.
Mila could have sworn that just a couple of days ago, there was no Christmas cafe nearby! And today, on the morning of December 25, it suddenly appeared... Mystery!
Shrugging her shoulders, the girl quickly crossed the small snow-covered courtyard and pulled the heavy door. The little bell trembled, and she breathed in an inviting warmth, so intoxicating and homely... Mila smiled and resolutely stepped over the threshold. By the looks of it, guests were welcome here!
She found herself in an absolutely amazing, very cozy room, with a fire crackling in the fireplace and the smell of home cooking hovering in the air. Snowflakes sparkling with silver hung on the walls, an elegant Christmas tree flaunted in the far corner, and twisted candles burned on the tables, illuminating everything around with a ghostly warm glow.
A pretty Snow Maiden in a short blue fur coat and a matching hat rushed to Mila. A thick blond braid was thrown over the beauty's shoulder.
"Good morning!" The Snow Maiden greeted her joyfully. "Sit down, sit down, please! So happy to see you!"
Mila obediently settled down at one of the tables and asked with uncertainty:
"New cafe, huh?"
"Not new, but a Christmas one!" the Snow Maiden corrected her.
"There aren't many people yet," Mila remarked. "For now, it's just me."
"Only those who still believe in the Christmas miracle can get here," the beauty calmly explained to her. "There are too few such believers left."
Mila sighed. Despite her not very young age (after all, almost 30!), she still believed in the magic of Christmas. Unfortunately, her faith was never justified or rewarded. The only exception was this mysterious cafe with a waitress resembling a Snow Maiden.
"I'll have a cappuccino," Mila asked, deciding not to wonder where the Christmas Cafe came from. Since it appeared anyway, why not take full advantage of it?
"Cappuccino?" The Snow Maiden grimaced. "No, no! I'll bring you fragrant herbal tea and delicious pastries."
"I don't eat flour or starchy foods," Mila protested weakly.
"Try before refusing our treats! "The Fairy-Tale Beauty smiled at her sweetly.
Mila had neither the strength nor the desire to continue the argument. And she was sincerely glad she hadn't them when the Snow Maiden placed a tray of treats on the table in front of her. The girl saw a porcelain teapot exuding gentle herbal steam and a plate of well-toasted muffins smelling delicious.
"It was very tasty!" Mila thanked the hospitable Snow Maiden after enjoying a truly delightful meal. "How much do I have to pay?"
"You don't have to pay anything," Snow Beauty exuded another sweet smile.
"It’s free?" Mila asked suspiciously. "But why?"
"Because it's the Christmas Cafe!" The girl said in such a tone as if discussing self-evident things.
"Well… okay…" Mila, bewildered, drawled in confusion. "Thank you for this Christmas present."
"Christmas morning predicts how the next year will pass," the Snow Maiden winked at her." And believe me, your year will be very successful."
Mila thanked her again and reluctantly left the hospitable establishment. A delicious breakfast visibly improved her mood, and the girl decided to visit the charming coffee shop more often in the coming year.
However, the Christmas Cafe wasn't there when she appeared on this street the next day. It vanished without a trace as if it had never existed... mystery!
…It seems miracles do happen, even if only around Christmas! If that’s so, then perhaps she can hope for a very successful year… after all, that's what the Snow Maiden promised her!
