It's a chilly December morning, the day before Christmas, and cold air whips through your jacket, raising goosebumps all down your body. You wrap your arms tighter around yourself and keep walking. As you trot, your breath makes puffs of mist, and your nose is starting to go numb. You're about to cross a street to get back to your apartment, but suddenly, a smell hits you.
You stop for a second, shivering.
What is that smell? It smells like fresh baked doughnuts, bread, and cookies. The scent of tea and hot chocolate wafts along the breeze as well.
Hot chocolate. On such a cold day, hot chocolate would be good.
You glance toward the smells and see a friendly looking cafe. The picture of a smiling calico cat guards the glass door, with blooming Christmas cactus dangling in pots from the ceiling. You read the front sign and decide that you really, really need that chocolate. You turn and cross the street, only headed in direction of the cafe.
You open the door, and the opening bell gives a bright tinkle. A wreath hangs on the door. The sudden change in temperature makes you shiver, but already you're warming up. You sniff the air.
The inside of the cafe smells even better: cinnamon and pine mingle with the cookies and chocolate. You take a seat at an empty table and gaze at the mini poinsettias resting on the tabletop. A cheery woman with auburn hair and an apron walks up to you. She smiles widely and offers you a mint.
"Merry Christmas!" She says brightly.
"Thank you, ma'am," you say, and take the candy.
The woman pulls a clipboard and a Christmas themed pencil. "What would you like today?" she asks.
You glance up at her an smirk, rubbing your hands together. "Hot chocolate please."
The woman grins and jots down the note. "Anything else for you today?"
You pause and think. "Two sugar cookies, please. I could smell them from a block down the road."
The woman laughs. "Cold air carries good smells faster. I'll be right back!"
She scurries off the the kitchen, pausing at a set of stairs as another person walks through the cafe entrance.
"Get down here!"
You wonder who she's yelling at, and voice comes from upstairs: "Coming! We're coming!"
You hear thudding and a yelp. Next comes rapid steps and another thud. Then a spritely looking, barefooted boy— about seventeen maybe— trots down the stairs and into the cafe. A smaller boy leaps down after him, also barefoot, almost slamming into the wall. The older boy stops and looks around, while the smaller one nearly crashes in back of him. He looks up and rubs his head indignantly. He looks to you to be about six, maybe seven.
"Watch it, you!"
The older boy rolls his eyes. You look at them, at immediately assume they're brothers. Then the older brother glances at an elderly woman sitting across the room and waves. The little boy is still scowling.
"Hey, Mrs. Mattie!" He calls. "Merry Christmas!"
Mrs. Mattie smiles and waves back. She replies in a language you can't decipher, and the boy grins and says something back. The little brother stands on tiptoe and wiggles his fingers at the woman.
"Hey," you hear from the kitchen. "I need help in here!"
The boys whip around and stumble into the kitchen.
"Coming! Sorry…"
You smile to yourself and pop the mint in your mouth.
About a moment has passed.
You're sitting at your table, sucking the mint and tapping the wood with your fingers, when you hear a smash and a shriek from the kitchen.
"Gah! You dropped it again!"
"Sorry!"
"Go deliver that cocoa right now, or I'll—!"
"Sorry. I'm going…"
You stare in the direction of the ruckus, wondering what in the name the Creator is going on, when the younger boy tiptoes out of the kitchen, a mug filled with hot chocolate in one hand, and two sugar cookies in the other. He's wearing an apron similar to the woman's, and also a sheepish grin. The apron is so big on him, it goes almost twice around his waist. He sets the plate and mug in front of you.
"Sorry about that," he says, wiping off a drop of spilled cocoa from the tabletop. He sounds surprisingly older than he looks. "I uh… Never mind."
"Thanks," you say, and reach for the mug.
Out of curiosity, you ask, "How old are you?"
The boy almost rolls his eyes, but manages a wry smile.
"I'm twelve."
"Oh," you say. He is much older than you thought. Oops.
The twelve-year-old-six-year-old bounces on his toes awkwardly for while, then frowns as if remembering something. Then he starts, and ruffles around in his monster of an apron. He pulls out a paper, scribbles something on it, and sets on the table as if it were an ancient artifact. Then he steps back, gives a little bow and a smirk, and runs back into the kitchen.
After gazing after him curiously, you turn back to the food at hand. The cookies are still warm, and you decide to dunk them into the hot chocolate. The cocoa and the cookies taste of Christmas, just like they smell.
Ten minutes later, you sit back in your chair. You've warmed up considerably, and your fingers are no longer half-frozen. Then you glance at the piece of paper the teen put on the table. You pick up and read what the messy handwriting says:
On the house. Merry Christmas! :)
You stop, then smile. You glance toward the kitchen, where you see the older brother balancing four steaming mug and four plates of gingerbread on trays in each hand. He's biting his lip in concentration, as if he's walking a tightrope. The woman is watching him closely, ready to intervene if he stumbles. You rest your chin in your hand and watch them out the corner of your eye. As you watch, the boy makes it to a table with a small family of four. He gently eases each item onto the table. The two children grab the cocoa and start to guzzle it, even while the parents are paying—or trying to.
Just like the twelve year old brother, the bigger brother scribbles a note, and rushes back to the kitchen where the woman is waiting. The two briefly exchange chatter, and the woman smiles and crushes the boy in a hug. You try not to laugh as you see his eyes bulge. The woman lets him go, then strides back into the kitchen to work on yet another order. The boy slowly staggers after her. Seeing this, you assume the woman is the boy's mother.
After sitting at your table, watching the news and listening to Christmas tunes playing softly in the background, you get up to go. As you stand, the younger boy goes rushing past, empty handed, having just finished a delivery. On impulse, you grab his shoulder. He starts and turns to you.
"Yes?" he says.
"The cookies and cocoa— they were great," you say.
The boy smiles. "All my aunts food is great. Glad-ja liked it."
Aunt? You make a mental note of that as the woman walks up to you, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Leaving so soon?" she asks.
You nod and shrug with a smirk. "I suddenly feel the need to take a nap. Thank you, for the cocoa, and the cookies. And the on the house—"
"No, no, no!" the woman says, waving her hands with a grin. "It's Christmas! Cocoa and cookies are free."
Another customer walks in behind you and the boy rushes to serve him. You turn and open the door, to leave, giving a last wave.
"Thanks again," you say. "And Merry Christmas!"
The woman waves back. "You too! Anytime at the Lucky Cat Café."
THE END
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A/N: Just a happy moment from when Tadashi was alive. I figured that Aunt Cass had something like this for all holidays, but Christmas is always taken the most to heart.
Merry Early Christmas, my readers!