Here is a short story that I submitted for a writing contest a few months ago. I obviously didn't win but since I'm still happy with what I came up with, I thought I'd share it with y'all.
It is inspired by the coffee shop down the street which is one of my favourite things about my neighbourhood and is part of my Saturday ritual. I wondered what it was like to spend the day behind the counter and what kind of people came in and out. I sat down to write one evening, and it poured out of me like the dark magic bean juice flows into a cup.
Critters and other woodland creatures, I present to you:
8:15 Sharp
8:15 sharp. The man in the green trench coat walked in with his briefcase, as he did every morning of every business day. “An Americano and a scone to go, please and thank you,” he said in all his straightforward politeness. Dana had seen him so many times now yet she still had so many questions that she didn’t dare ask. What kind of job did he have? Was green his favourite colour? What even was his name? Dana didn’t have a clue. He was a regular but he was a quiet one, the sort you only start noticing after a while. Mr. Green Trench, as they called him at the coffee shop, patiently waited for his coffee to be served. Stiofán was too focused on not getting burned yet again by the hot jug to notice the faintest smile on the customer’s face. Neither did Dana. She’d only had a few seconds before the next customer had at last made up their mind between an iced latte and a mocha with cream. Mr. Green Trench picked up his cup exactly three seconds after Stiofán put it down on the counter. He neatly put the lid on, as he did every morning of every business day, and left the shop with a shy “goodbye”.
Shortly after came in Ciara. She was out of breath. “Running late?” asked Dana with a mischievous smile. “What a nightmare! I spilled jam on me skirt as I was putting me shoes on, so I had to run back upstairs to get changed. And the boiler broke again so the shower took even longer. It was freezing, the horror. I’m telling you, someday I’m going to go to work in me jammies. No joke.” Dana was rather amused with Ciara, the businesswoman who was always running out of time. “Cappuccino as usual?” the barista suggested. Ciara smiled gratefully. “Yes, please. Extra hot if you don’t mind. I have a feeling it’s going to be one of those mornings.” Dana turned to her colleague behind the machine. “You hear that Sti? Cappuccino extra hot!” He responded with a hand gesture that everyone knew meant “coming right up”. Ciara half sat on the stool behind her, sighing and fanning herself. It wasn’t long till she was bolting out the door again with her coffee in hand.
“Hello hello my good fellows!” The air was filled with Mr. Mulligan’s jolly voice. “Woof woof!” happily barked Columbo to echo his human’s greeting. Rush hour was over. Stiofán finally took the time to take a peek at the other side of the counter. Columbo the corgi was wagging his tail, happy as a clam. That was a sight Stiofán never got tired of. Dana was making small talk with Mr Mulligan: how were the kids? and the grandkids? had Columbo met any new friends at the park? The usual. Then the sweet old man would ask his loyal companion “what shall we have today?” to which the dog would bark in their secret code. “Splendid! You are absolutely right.” The sweet old man would turn back to Dana and declare that today he would be trying a latte with oat milk. The smile on Mr. Mulligan’s face was enough to warm the coldest of hearts. As he waited for his coffee, the regular made sure to ask Dana about her progress on her thesis. Stiofán on the other hand made sure that Columbo had his morning treat, the one he kept under the counter specially for the cutest ball of fur. The other customers who were used to seeing the local grandad and his short-legged friend couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the cheerful duo. Mr. Mulligan and Columbo were the life of the party in this part of town. The silver-haired man found a free table and pulled up his newspaper. The atmosphere always felt lighter when he was there.
8:15 sharp. The man in the green trench coat walked in with his briefcase, as he did every morning of every business day. He placed his usual order. He stood in his usual spot. He looked as emotionless as ever. Javier was busy with the next customer. Polina was still in training so she was trying to stay focused on the tricky machine. Mr. Green Trench never annoyingly tapped his foot while he waited for his cup like the other guys with a briefcase did. But no one paid enough attention that day to notice what a gentleman he was being to the other customers who were busily walking by. Mr. Green Trench picked up his cup exactly three seconds after Polina put it down on the counter. He neatly put the lid on and walked out with a polite “goodbye”.
“There she is, there’s my star!” Sally was enthusiastically greeted by Javier as she walked in. The young American woman looked so painfully Irish with her red hair, white skin and freckles galore, that she had managed to snag a few small roles on productions of period dramas. To say that Javier was obsessed with her was an understatement. Every time he had been lucky enough to serve her, he had asked about her latest projects. This morning, Sally had exciting news for the president of her fan club. “Well, I wanted you to be the first to know that I’ve been cast for a little part in the next episode of…” She stretched out over the counter to whisper in his ear, as if it were top secret information. Javier’s mouth took the shape of an ‘o’ about a full ten seconds before any sound came out of it. “Oh. My. God!” He was basically dying of excitement, so much so that Polina had to loudly clear her throat to remind him to take his favourite customer’s order. Since the coffee shop was pretty quiet at this time of day, Javier conveniently took his break when Sally’s latte was ready to sit down with her and gossip.
After school, a tall lad wearing his football attire came in, closely followed by a young girl blissfully busy with a lolly. Both Javier and Polina, for once, fawned over how adorable the little girl was with her curly pigtails and her tiny pink parka. The flamboyant Latino was ready to give the little cutie all the sweets in the world but Polina had the sense to bring him back to reality with a glare. “Can I have an espresso and a hot chocolate? Please?” Javier raised one eyebrow behind his till. The lad may have been tall and muscular (and made the utmost effort to sound manly) but he couldn’t have been more than 16. “Are you sure?” the barista questioned with an inquisitive tone, even though it technically was none of his business. The lad sighed, defeated. He had been busted. “Make it two hot chocolates. Please.” The little girl pulled on her brother’s arm. “I want a biscuit.” He clearly wasn’t pleased to have no choice but to tell her no. Ma had said so. Clearly, she wasn’t pleased either. Her little black nose was all crinkled up, arms crossed over her chest. “Pouting isn’t going to help, you know that.” With all the exasperation she could muster, the little girl let out a “fine” worthy of a Best Actress in a Dramatic Role award. As they sat down with the two hot chocolates, Maureen O’Hara climbed on her brother’s lap and demanded her new favourite show be played for her on his phone. That, he very much obliged. When their mum picked them up, the little girl loudly said goodbye with the biggest grin. The lad double checked that the door was properly closed on his way out.
8:15 sharp. The man in the green trench coat didn’t walk in with his briefcase, as he did every morning of every business day. Stiofán was swamped with orders, between taking them and making them he was overwhelmed. Polina had called in sick last minute and Javier was still stuck on the bus. Floundering in the sea of coffee where he was losing his mind, Stiofán didn’t notice there was an Americano to go missing nor the absence of a civilized “goodbye”.
“Whale hello there mate,” exclaimed a merry voice. Stiofán chuckled, he had to admit that was funny. “Good one Mr. Mulligan.” His smile got wider the moment he laid eyes on Columbo, the dog who delightfully appreciated life, as much as his two-legged friend. “What will sir Columbo have this morning?” inquired Stiofán. Mr. Mulligan and his faithful companion exchanged a knowing look. Of course, the man answered for both. “He will have his treat and I will try a cinnamon cappuccino. Yes, that sounds like a good idea.” The barista completed the transaction and relayed the order to his colleague handling the heavy machinery. “Excellent choice, sir.” The shop was mostly empty, Stiofán had time to give Columbo his treat. The feeling of the dog licking his hand made him giggle with glee. The more he was around the jolly corgi, the more he wanted a dog of his own.
Karla rolled around in the afternoon, Javier rushed to open the door for her. It was never easy to manage with the twins’ pushchair. The blonde au pair thanked the employee profusely. “Could I get a large latte please?” She looked just as exhausted as any new parent. She came at random times but often enough for several members of the coffee shop staff to recognize her. For now the twins were napping, but Karla knew it wasn’t going to last. She needed the magic bean juice while she could. She was most definitely going to need the energy at the park later. Javier was kind enough to bring the warm cup to her table. The young woman thanked him profusely with a tired smile. As he was sweeping around, Stiofán could hear Karla mumbling between sips, something along the lines of ‘go to Ireland they said, it’ll be fun’ and ‘minding children is easy they said’. The harsh reality of having to look after toddlers was a lot different from what she had expected. A micro-nap later, the twins were awake again. Time to head to the park it was.
8:15 sharp. The man in the green trench coat didn’t walk in with his briefcase, as he did every morning of every business day. A minute had passed. Dana looked at the clock again. Mr. Green Trench was late. Impossible. But she didn’t have time to dwell, an obnoxious businessman had already swooped in at the till. Maybe he was sick.
Old Ms. Daley stopped by for a cup of tea. She volunteered at the church so she knew everybody. Her and her friend sat down to gossip as two old ladies do without a care in the world, though they called it “exchanging relevant information about the community”. As Dana approached with the two scalding cups, they were discussing the sudden passing of a fellow churchgoer. “Oh dear, I’m sorry to hear that, that’s terrible,” commented the young woman. “Quite right, Mr. O’Keeffe was such a gentleman. Always gave bills at collection, always had the most polite manners, his green trench coat was always impeccable.” Ms. Daley kept going on about how he was a valued member of the church and how she was planning the most tasteful floral arrangement for his funeral service. Dana’s brain couldn’t compute. Made no sense. Impossible.
8:15. A man with a red scarf walked in with his briefcase, as he would now do most days on his way to work. He ordered an Americano. He was quiet. As he walked out the door with his coffee in hand, Dana made it a point to answer his polite “goodbye” with a warm and sincere “have a pleasant day, sir”.
Nicky 🦊
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