Sam--short for Samantha, if you please--has been living in Crawley, Maine for about a year in her grandfather's lighthouse. A promising advertiser, she works from home and the local coffee shop, where she gets her daily hot chocolate fix. For her, l...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It started out as any other day. The sun was peaking dimly through the clouds and a stiff autumn breeze brushed through the chill morning air. The sea on the wind tasted of salt as I ducked my chin ever closer to the lapels of my coat and the itchy wool scarf.
Teeth chattering, the warm yellow lights of the café beckoned me to quicken my pace. Shuffling down the sidewalk, hands shoved gracelessly into the pockets of my peacoat, the smell of roasting coffee soothed my clamoring heart.
Pulling open the door blasted hot air in my face and my glasses fogged up immediately. Letting the door fall shut behind me, I fumbled blindly for the buttons of my coat and took a few cautious steps to the side as Sally called out a greeting.
"Sam! You're late! What took you so long?"
"Oh nothing, just got a little sidetracked with my writing is all. Do you have my cocoa ready?"
"Sorry, kid, we're fresh out."
"Oh," My face fell, and my fingers trembled a bit as they wiped my glasses with a piece of clean sweater, "That's alright, I guess I'll—"
"Kid, I was kidding, geez, you've gotta stop being so gullible. Here," she slid a steaming mug over to me from across the counter, "it's on the house."
An immediate grin slid into place and I beamed at her as I palmed the mug,
"Thanks, Sally, you're my favorite."
"And I better stay that way." She mumbled as I brushed past her spot at the counter to sit in my regular booth.
With a clear view of the coast, and the blue-green ocean below, the town of Crawley's only café was a hotspot for easy-going sightseers with a lot of time on their hands.
My booth, I had picked after only a week or two here. At just the right time of morning, I could catch the sun breaking over the water and the white-capped waves, tinting the water a glorious gold.
With my mind on other things, I accidentally bumped into a table that wasn't in it's normal place. Two, or what may have been three, tables were scooted together to create one long one and were standing in my usual path to my booth. In my scramble to right my hot chocolate mug, and the tables' occupants to assist, one of their coats fell to the floor.
"I'm so sorry, thank you so much." I gushed as one of them took the dripping mug from my hands and promptly wiped it with a napkin from their dispenser.
"It is no problem. We are a big group, we are in the way." The cup-wiping man stated simply in a low, friendly voice. I simply nodded. My hands free, I remembered the lost coat.
"Oops, you dropped your coat! Sorry about that."
I cheerfully picked up the gray fur coat off the floor and absentmindedly noted really how very soft it was. It was almost like the chinchilla Mrs. Mandy had in 4th grade.
