Alma walked through the harsh winter weather, pulling her coat closer to her body as she did. The smile, that never seemed to leave her lips, greeted whoever decided to look her way. The nova scotia duck tolling retriever that her mother and father had gotten her happily said hello to passersby as well.
She fumbled with the key to the café but managed to somewhat gracefully get the door open. The inside was decorated with a homely feel to it, with big comfy armchairs and couches, pillows everywhere, dimmed lights and a permanent smell of cinnamon and chocolate.
Alma sighed in content as she started her morning routine. She baked some cupcakes and cookies and a carrot cake or two, then she brought some fresh coffee to Clyde (the homeless man who lived in the alleyway just by the café), then she cleaned off the counter and she fluffed the pillows and took out some blankets. Finally, she let Baxter out into the main area and flipped the sign in the window to open.
The day was like most other days, and Alma was happy. But then again she mostly was. Around noon, when the breakfast rush had subsided, the bell chimed from above the door. Alma didn't recognize the man that walked in, but he was probably just a few years older than her. He looked like he wasn't having the best of days.
"Good afternoon, sir! How may I help you today?" she asked leaning over the counter.
The man grunted and chewed on his thump for a while before answering.
"I look like a damn 'sir' to ya?" he mumbled. Now, most people would have thought him to be rude or uncivilized or maybe even kind of 'bad boy' struck, but Alma just kept her head high.
"Well then ma'am, I'm sorry to have mistaken," she teased lightly before her face dropped to concerned "Rough day?"
The man looked like he might just up and leave, his whole body tense and eyes hard. The silence was pretty thick, even though only one of them was bothered by that.
Alma stood up and left to the back room, the man's eyes not leaving her body until she rounded the corner. Not even ten minutes later she came back out, with hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies. She made herself comfortable in one of the armchairs that were located in front of the wood counter and called over Baxter to lay on the floor by the tired man's feet while she pulled her legs up to her chest.
"Alma Kirsten DiAngelo at your service, ready to listen to your problems and smother them with calories" she exclaimed, taking a dramatic sip of her coco and grinning mischievously.
It did take the man some time to reply but Alma could see the slight amusement behind his guarded eyes.
"M'name's Daryl. Daryl Dixon"