Fiction logo

Cafe Moliere

"Add some rainbow sprinkles"

By Emmy BPublished 3 years ago 4 min read
Cafe Moliere
Photo by Alex Padurariu on Unsplash

“Double caramel macchiato” She shook her head and blinked. Grey hat, blue eyes, a slight twinge of annoyance creasing at her brow. A macchiato. “Yes, of course ma’am. What size?” “Medium please.” The woman turned back to her friend, lightly lilted conversation continuing with barely a pause.

Pshh. Hiss. Shtunk. Damnit, there went the foam machine again. She wiped her hands on her grey shirt, sweaty fingers which shook slightly. Then her forehead, leaving a sticky pale sheen behind. The machine, the machine. The machine, right, in the back. She exhaled and set about fumbling in her pocket for the key. The tools were always in the locked cupboard in the back of the stand. Right, one thing at a time. First the key, then the machine. Her breath hitched, her mind blanking again. Focus Elena. There is no way this should be so hard.

Elena felt sick, the remnants of last night sticking to a heavy tongue and fuzzy teeth. Her nose itched and she batted at it mindlessly. Her finger brushed against a piece of paper in her pocket before finding the key, and she walked stiffly to the back of the stall. The screwdriver was all she needed, now where had Melissa put it away. The tinkling laughter was dying down outside as she stepped out of sight, and she heard a slight huff. She would apologise later.

Her eyebrow twinged as she squinted in the darkness. There! Hanging in its spot. Melissa must have not followed in her footsteps last night. Truth be told she didn’t really remember her leaving the apartment, too busy trying to keep every conversation going. Trying to have a good time… “GAH.” Her chest squeezed slightly and she held her fist up to her eyebrow. There it was, the ever present anxiety of next day blues. There she was, casually sitting back in that chair, looking at her friend, “I’ve been interested in discovering sex clubs too..” She glanced at her nails, semi-casually and then glazed eyes slid back to him. “ I’m pretty adventurous-“

“Stop it. Damn it.” She muttered to herself, squeezing her nails into her hand. No need to rehash that conversation. GOD - what was she thinking. She smacked the door with her palm wide, then gritted her teeth. She looked at the key and the screwdriver. “Pffff..” She reached in her pocket. There it was, that little paper rectangle. She inhaled and pried it open, a little glimmer of powder stared back at her. She closed it, eyes closing with it. No. It’s 10am. Not yet, just get the screwdriver, just make that macchiato. Just go back out there, smile. Her thoughts echoed dully in her brain, resolve already gone with that glimpse. She tipped a finger in quickly, before sliding it across her lips and resolutely placing the rectangle back in her pocket, exhaling. Alright, enough - let’s go.

Screwdriver in hand, she locked the cupboard and turned back to the front of the stall. Grey hat, blue eyes and a black scarf, standing a bit closer to the window in impatience.

“Apologies, just need to fix the foam machine, will only be a minute!” She smiled brightly at their disgruntled faces. Screw tightened, she gave it a slight jiggle to test her workmanship. Her eyes slid past the two women, gazing blindly at the white mountain tops behind them. A waving hand - her childhood friend. She smiled tightly back, head nodding slightly - hiding, acknowledging, whatever. She stuck the lid on and handed it over to the woman. “That will be 2 Euros 50” She smiled. The woman stuck out the change, put it in her outstretched hand and turned on her heel. “You’re welcome” Rolling eyes, sigh.

The breeze tickled her nose and lifted a paper into the air. Flying away - like my dreams. She snorted and groaned, pushing her hands against her temples. Like my dreams.. what is even the point. Everything just.. spun out of control. Her eyes rested on the countertop, sticky from syrup and marked with tea and coffee and stains from God knows where. What am I doing here. Her eyes were drawn back to her friend, now striking up a conversation, animated and alive. Elena’s hand was back in her pocket. Her heart squeezed again and she filled her lungs with air, stinging with the cold. Chloe looked happy, with her bob, her childhood sweetheart, their little apartment in this town where they grew up a mere 10 minutes from their school, their parents, their everything.

God, why the judgement Elena! It’s you that left, that came back to work.. at Cafe Moliere. Her eyes pulled away from Chloe, back to the view she was graced with every day. The snowy mountain tops glistened and reflected the merry-go-round with the one eyed horse she used to favour as a child. It turned and turned, turned, and turned until the reds and yellows blended together into a fiery glare. It was a cute town, really.

It was just not her town. Not her life. Her heart lurched with a glimmer of motivation, of ambition, of hope.. a rare feeling these days.

She leaned her forearms on the countertop, cringing at the stick but too committed to care. This shirt was dirty anyway. It differed from the clean-pressed blazers from last year. Last year with its humid smell, its colourful patterns, its glaring copper sun. Last year where she was free. Her breath stalled in her chest, tightening painfully.

She frowned, her eyes glancing over the frozen pond, reflecting the amber flicker of the twirling ride. Elena stretched her arms over her head, and then stuck her hand in her pocket once more. Her finger played with her anchor, her ball and chain. She didn’t want to be frozen here. She couldn't.

"It's my life."

And an ember sparked and flickered behind her hazel eyes.

Short Story

About the Creator

Emmy B

I write some of my truths, and use words to weave stories and ideas together. Writing is a passion and an outlet for me and I hope to inspire, challenge, or simply be a reflection of others's experiences - to make people feel seen!

Enjoyed the story?
Support the Creator.

Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.

Subscribe For FreePledge Your Support

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights


There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

    Emmy BWritten by Emmy B

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.