Since I only do my Impressions post every other Wednesday, I thought I’d keep things interesting and dig into my drafts and random blog titles I’ve found written in my planner over the past couple of years. There are a lot of them, and I don’t even know what some of them were supposed to be about, so they’ll be alternating with the Impressions post until I’ve finished amusing myself with them. And maybe you, if I’m lucky.
The first note I found from 2020 was, annoyingly, just called Short Story. What short story this was supposed to refer to, I have no clue. I’m not big on writing short stories, so I’m at a complete loss. Also, what kind of short story could I possibly come up with during the pandemic (this was scribbled on my October calendar) while muddling through my son’s online First Grade year and handling a toddler at the same time? Well, since I haven’t the faintest idea, and my perusal of my folders turned up no clues, I thought I’d share, not a short story, but a scene from an unwritten story I called Monday’s Coffee. It was either that or a very sad short story I wrote when I was a teen 2 decades ago.
Flora smiled and handed a white mug of steaming coffee to Sven. The blond Nordic man returned a slight smile and nod as he tucked his newspaper under an arm and took the mug. As Sven walked off to one of the caramel colored sofas in the middle of the coffee shop, the door to the shop opened and the little bell at the top of the door tinkled. The smell of freshly baked pastries wafted into the shop as two young women walked in carrying covered trays.
Eagerly, Flora grinned and hurried to help Elisa and Vita with that morning’s batch of pastries.
“Take Elisa’s,” Vita said in her quiet, silky voice. “She has to hop off to class.”
Flora gently took the tray from the younger woman, who saluted and bounced out the door. Vita walked towards the counter with Flora following and placed her tray down. Flora set her’s next to Vita’s and walked around to the other side of the counter.
“Amy,” Flora called into the back room. “Vita’s here. Would you get her her morning cup?”
“Sure, Flora,” Amy called back as she walked through the door. “Morning, Vita. What’ll it be?”
“Actually, I’m thinking a nice floral tea,” Vita said, twirling a lock of hair as Flora began to put the pastries into her clear pastry box.
“We have jasmine and chrysanthemum,” Flora said with a face. “Elisa’s been trying to help me with the tea stock, but this is a coffee shop. Our customers prefer coffee.”
“Oh, I know, Flora,” Vita said with a laugh. “I’m just in a tea mood today.”
“The jasmine tea is wonderful this morning,” Carolina called from her perch on one of the stools near the tall windows.
Vita turned and smiled a hello at the “town’s writer.” Carolina was hunched over her computer, wildly typing. Amy leaned over the counter.
“I’m guessing she’s writing about last night’s séance.”
Vita shook her head as Amy went to prepare the tea.
“Neil had another one of those? He has so many, I wonder how many people actually attend.”
“Actually,” Flora said as she bit into a fresh cinnamon bun, “I was at that séance. There were a good dozen people. I think most of them were tourists, but I guess they get their kicks out of that sort of thing. And Neil swears his grandfather’s ghost knocked over a candle. Really, I just think it was his cat.”
Vita laughed as she took a teacup from Amy.
“Well, I guess there’s no shortage of excitement.”
Vita raised her teacup. “I’ll go enjoy this now. Amy, why don’t you drop by whenever you have a break?”
“Sure,” Amy said. “But for now I have inventory to take.”
“Go have a nice chat,” Flora said. “I’ll finish. The morning rush is just about over, anyways. I’m just waiting for Alain and Quinton to walk in now.”
Amy nodded. “All right. I’ll serve them when they walk in. Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye out.”
“Be sure you keep an ear out, too.”
“Yes, boss,” Amy said with a grin as she walked around the counter to join Vita at a small round table.
Flora shook her head and walked into the back room.
Hmm, these people sound interesting. Maybe I’ll figure out what this was supposed to be about one day and write it.
This blog is my home base, but you can also find me on:
2 thoughts on “The Drafts Folder: Short Story”
Aww, I loved this, Kat. 🙂 The characters are very quirky and alive. Their voices are lovely, and your flow here reminds me of one of those beautiful old English writers (oh, who am I thinking of?! Is it Oscar Wilde, maybe?’ xx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Aww, thank you so much, Brooke! I’ve never read Wilde, but I keep thinking I ought to. It’s been quite I while since I wrote this little scene, but reading it again makes me curious about their lives.
LikeLiked by 1 person