The Baron and the Baroness
This is the author's first step into writing a story for a public audience. While I hope that you enjoy my little creation, you are welcome to criticize my work.
We came from a land far away, me and my Baroness. I was hers as much as she was mine; we were a couple, a pair, a man and woman in love. There wasn't a day when I was not with her.
We lived inside a cafe in Germany. People passed by us. Children, young ones, young lovers, married couples and elders. The owner was always introducing us to the customers, telling our story. The most beautiful, tender and heartwarming kind of story I know; a story of love. The owner enjoyed to tell it, and the customers did want to listen.
The Cafe we lived in was an old cafe with white doilies over round, antique oak tables. White walls were filled with paintings of sea, hills, forests and countryside that surrounded the town. The desk was filled with cakes, muffins and biscuits alongside the coffee and tea to be served. They were made by owner's wife and kids and as long as I can remember, people that did visit the place loved everything they created.
The Cafe had it's regular visitors from the streets close by. It was always busy during the morning, when people were going to work or school. It came busy again when it was afternoon as people were coming from the work. Or students came from the schools. And when it was starting to be evening, people came to pass time, to talk with owners or one another. Then there was the special group that always came when the twilight was close. They came to see me and the Baroness. I still remember their faces as they eagerly waited the sun's rays to hit our eyes. And their amazement as it did.
The last summer I spent with my Baroness was one of the warmest I can remember. On that summer sun was always in the sky, clouds were white like milk and when it did rain, it made the most beautiful sound as the drops hit the roof. And when it thundered, the lightning came long way down to illuminate the sky. And the cafe was full, every day. After each day, the owners sat around a table in front of us and had themselves a moment of relief.
The memory of that summer and those evenings still makes me glad, and I often find myself thinking those calm days.