a/n: So, I wouldn't think of myself as a seasonal person but here we are with another season inspired story. Thank you in advance for checking this out and drop a review to let me know what you think!
Michonne's pencil scratched aimlessly along the sides of the fine paper that housed the crossword puzzle she was half heartedly attempting. She hated the New York Times puzzle but she had forgotten her copy of "Freshwater" so in lieu of reading she was racking her brain over this seemingly impossible answer. Down: 12 letter word for 'to throw something out of a window'. She glanced at her iPhone briefly and sighed. The art of crossword puzzles were truly lost with the advent of smartphones. It was all too tempting to pick up her phone and thumb through an online dictionary.
"Defenestrate" she muttered aloud. Her hand moved fast and sure, scribbling out the answer in a messy loopy scrawl as she smiled to herself. Which then quickly faded as she noticed her triumphant answer didn't coincide with Across: 8 letter word for "sea blue".
Michonne chucked her pen a few inches away from her and stuffed her chin into her upturned palm. She figured she might as well settle for watching the passersby in the large windows of the cafe. It was the second week of October and the autumn chill had begun to settle in nicely. Michonne drew her grey cardigan closer around her chest, hoping to fight off the sharp breeze that seemed to slip through the thin space beneath the main door. She'd spoken to Jessie Anderson, the spacy owner of the Two Owls Cafe, about maybe turning the heat up a little earlier this year. Instead Jessie had scoffed at her in that annoyingly arrogant way, batting her thickly coated black lashes telling Michonne not to worry about it and layer up. Michonne had also wanted to offer up her own two cents about the dangers of bottled yellow blondes and black mascara. However she figured Jessie's main goal in life was to resemble the winged creatures she'd adored and named her shop after. So day after day she kept her mouth shut about the rings of black soot that rimmed her lower lash ones that fell from her lashes and were rubbed into her eyes from irritation.
The sudden tick of the big hand hitting the twelve signaled her final hour, and another celebratory hoot from the gaudy Owl cuckoo clock that had a smaller owl spring from it's chest and chirp along in cheery unison. Michonne sighed while flicking some locs over her shoulder. She took a deep breath and reminding herself that this was a side grind. It paid well and was low energy seeing as how all the students opted to do school work at the other coffee shops in town. The ones without obnoxious owl decals and loud random hooting.
Her final hour also brought along a small burst of business. Mostly the deliveries from the local venues or guests coming in to warm up with a large coffee to go or whatever remained from the morning's baked goods haul. Michonne stood up straighter as her friend Rosita pushed through the heavy front door.
"Hey girl!" She waved, uncharacteristically in a good long dark hair was braided into two slightly frizzy French braids. Rosita's warm welcome offset the biting cold that entered the small shop along with her.
"You're in a good mood today." Michonne commented. She turned her back on her friend briefly to pack a small amount of grounded beans into the portafilter and hook it back up to the espresso machine.
"Yeah, I guess I am. No real explanation for that."
"Hmm. Could a certain red headed fisherman be the reason for that?" Michonne teased, she pushed a small white to go cup in front of Rosita and rested her forearms on top of the counter.
"Well, I did happen to run into him on my way here. But it'll take more than a few lines to get me in a good mood."
"Or maybe just a few mediocre ones." The pair laughed as Michonne took her debit card and swiped it along the top of the iPad.
"Listen, don't come for me. I know I said I was taking a break from men, especially those fisherman but a girl's gotta eat."
"Often and well I guess. I never would've pictured you a fan of the ginger. What are you guys about to get into?"
Rosita shrugged her shoulders and looked down at her cup, a soft smile threatening to break the firm lines of her lips.
"When I'm done canvassing, I'm going to head over to his boat for dinner."
"Have fun getting the smell of fish out of your clothes."
"Oh, loosen up Michonne. You're just jealous because you're missing out on getting dicked down by the beautiful men selling their goods around town."
"Girl, they are selling too much of their goods around here." Michonne took a wet cloth to the counter, giving the already clean surface an unneeded swipe.
"Anyway, when are you planning another open mic?"
Michonne sighed, contemplated her answer. She was currently landlocked with Jessie about organizing the next event. The current date she'd chosen was next Tuesday, but Jessie had been insistent on pushing it back a whole month.
"I want to do one next week but Jessie keeps talking about some date she has with this dreamy guy from on of the local venues. I think it's Rhymes or Grimes and Sons. She doesn't want to hand over the keys and let me close this place for once."
"Wait a minute, she finally wore him down?" Rosita shook her head and slammed the rest of her lukewarm espresso shot.
"Wore who down?"
"Grimes! She's been sniffing around him forever."
"Which one is Grimes?" Michonne saw a fair number of people breeze in and out of the Two Owls, many of them failed to stick in her memory.
"The scruffy one, with the long curly brown hair. Grey beard. He always comes in here after finishes up at Glenn's place."
"And I serve him?"
Rosita laughed, "Yeah, babe." She snuck a glance at her phone. "Alright, I have to run. Give me a call later maybe we can grab a drink."
Michonne nodded, giving Rosita a brief wave as she hurried out of the store. She rolled her eyes at the thought of her eagerly thirsty boss, blowing off the opportunity to make money at what she was sure to be another failed date. As of late, Michonne's efforts to curate a rich artistic community outside of her alma mater Bowdoin were effectively curtailed by Jessie's flighty nature. It had taken her three months to get the owner used to the idea, followed by two weeks of going back and forth. Then to finally giving in and holding three open mic events, followed by this current lull she was determined to break.
Deanna Monroe, her other employer and former creative writing professor, had been encouraging Michonne to put her English degree to use. After spending the majority of her morning fielding calls from the professor's students, other departments, arranging meetings and handling other scholarly business the pair would cozy up with a cup of tea and discuss current events and Michonne's prospective career in the arts. Deanna had been instrumental to stoking the creative flames of Michonne's rich imagination, encouraging her to reach out to the community and invite them to share their talents.
Now she was at a standstill, if she could get Jessie to at least let her borrow the keys to the store her event could proceed as usual. Michonne picked her phone up from the counter and proceeded to text her friend Tyresse about borrowing his sound equipment. She figured it was best to get the ball rolling now as opposed to leaving everything to the last moment.
Michonne pulled up Tyresse's contact just as the front door opened revealing another rush of crisp air and a new guest. Her lips formed their perfunctory smile as she set her phone down squared her body off to the person approaching the counter. Her eyes crinkled slightly as she took in the long chocolate strands of curls brushing red ears and dusting along the cream colored collar of a worn in suede jacket.
"Hi, what can I get you?" Michonne worked on autopilot preparing to take the man's order. His eyes danced with a small bit of mirth, he chuckled and scratched at wisps of hazelnut and cream hairs flirting on his jaw line.
"A large coffee, black." He drawled out in a thick southern accent. Michonne looked up again from the notepad she'd taken out to write down his order and grinned easily. She took note of his eyes and gasped out "Cerulean!"
His order soon forgotten she began jotting down her answer in the crossword puzzle she had all but given up on.
"Excuse me?" He remarked, tilting his head to the side watching her look her newspaper instead of preparing his drink.
"Sorry, your eyes gave me my answer for my crossword. Cerulean." Michonne dropped her pencil and turned to him once again. "What was it you wanted again?"
It was now Cerulean's chance to squint at her, "Large black coffee?"
"Coming right up!" Michonne said with a faux level of exuberance. She was going to really have to turn on the charm if she didn't want him complaining to Jessie. Quickly selecting a large to go cup (he didn't appear to be the type to want one of those large porcelain mugs) Michonne filled the contents of the cup with the popular French roast brew leaving more than enough room for milk. She served the cup with small wisp of steam billowing from the lid along with her practiced service smile.
This was now turning into the longest most awkward interaction Michonne had had all day as she watched the man stare down into the cup with an irritated expression.
"You really don't remember me?" He asked, his eyes deserted it's game of chicken with the coffee. "I come in here every other day, ask for a large black coffee. You leave me room for milk and I tell you 'It's not needed'. Then you fill it up hand me my cup back and send me on my way."
Michonne was at a loss for words as her cheeks heated up flooding her face with the all too familiar warmth of embarrassment. She had never been described as absent minded before but to be fair she always tended to check out mentally the last hour of her shift.
"I'm so sorry. Can I offer you a-"
"Biscotti on the house? I'll pass...again." He reached out for her hand grasping it while he pressed a few bills into it then turned to leave. His duck boots pounded out a hasty retreat as he left the cafe without a further word.
"Dick." Michonne muttered, she shook her head and picked up her phone. The interaction was already forgotten as she resumed her text to Tyresse.