Starbucks

“Skinny vanilla latte for Melissa!” the barista shouts above the constant hum of the café. It is their afternoon rush; students are coming in after a long day of classes for their dose of caffeine to keep them going through the day. Through the tall windows it is clear that the snow is not letting up, as they sky gets threateningly darker by the hour.

The small room is dimly lit, but the light from the various open laptops brightens up small corners, making it easy to see the strained face of a small, dark haired boy frantically typing, and the half closed eyes of a girl sipping on her frappachino held in one hand, and resting her head on the other. The leather on the arm of a dark purple couch is cracked, from the weight of the many people who have sat there before. A girl from the same couch gets up, and makes her way to the restroom while a cold gust of air gushes through the room pulling everyone’s attention toward the door. A mother and child make their way toward the register, the mother ordering a hot chocolate and a blueberry muffin. As she reaches for her wallet, the change spills out onto the floor, now wet from her snow boots. The young boy picks up his mother’s belongings, wipes them with the sleeve of his coat, and waits patiently for his snack. The pair sits down at a small table near the window; the woman takes off the lid of the cup and cautiously blows on the hot chocolate before handing it to her son to take a sip. The boy puts the now dry change out onto the table, and counts it out before pushing it to his mother’s side of the table. After there is nothing left but crumbs and an empty cup, the mother bends down to zip up her son’s jacket, and they hold hands as they leave the coziness of the café, and go back out into the cold.