Arthur Kirkland had passed by the shop many times before, but it wasn't until now that he had really taken a long, hard look at it.

The Tea and Ink

The wooden, hand-painted sign seemed old fashion surrounded by all the neon lights and flashing projection screens that surrounded the busy corner of a forgotten New York street. The cold chill of a January freeze had kept most tourists who frequented the streets away, but Arthur, having been born in a place of rain and cold, was use to it. He tugged lightly at the scarf that wrapped about his neck before shoving his pale hands back into his warm brown coat pockets. He pushed open the door.

The interior was as quaint as the outside had been: homely, yet inviting. An array of mismatched furniture was scattered about the outer edges of a central dining area, things like couches and beanbag chairs situated adjacent to outlets for the "hipsters" who wished to sip their coffee in peace as they browsed the web. Arthur wouldn't be the first to admit it, but was technically "one of their kind". Aside from that, abstract paintings were hung against brick walls that faded into silver-topped round tables and chairs. All in all it wasn't anything to write home about.

"Welcome to the Tea and Ink!"

Arthur's head turned to face a young, dark skinned girl with black pigtails, wearing a grin from ear to ear. She was dressed in a burgundy blouse with a deep blue collar, the same hue that matched the knee-length skirt of her uniform. A strack white name tag read in all capitals: "SEY". Arthur turned his head to spy behind him, wondering if she was greeting a more familiar face than his messy-haired mug.

"No, Sir, I'm talking to you!"

"Oh, my apologies. Thank you….I'm afraid that this is my first time here. You see, I've just moved here from-"

"The UK, right?"

Arthur wasn't surprised that she'd discovered his identity so quickly. He'd been teased about eating nothing but scones and having bad teeth (though his teeth were next to flawless, he liked to think) since he'd arrived not two weeks ago.

"Why yes. Seems I can't blend in well with the locals just yet."

The girl laughed, a cheerful, bright sound much like that of ringing bells. She walked forward to greet him at the hostess' desk and scrawled something on a piece of paper that was there.

"Don't worry, we don't discriminate here. Anyone who enjoys tea and a quiet afternoon with a book is welcome." She looked back up from her writing to him. "Feel free to hang your coat by the door and you can sit anywhere you'd like. Your server will be with you shortly."

She said not a word more before turning back to resume her own waiting duties, a young couple in the far corner of the restaurant having called her attention. Arthur was hesitant at first, but soon removed his long coat and placed it on a hook among the handful of others already there. He scanned the layout carefully for prime real estate before settling on a lonely table by a set of large, glass windows. He slid into his chair into a somewhat haggard slump.

He'd come to the States to find direction in his writing, to make it big in the Big City, but so far, he hadn't been able to jot down a single idea. He removed the iphone from his pocket, which had been buzzing for some time now that he had purposefully ignored. A dozen or so calls and texts he'd missed from his family. Was he alright? Had the weather perked up any? Did he remember to pack enough socks. Arthur sighed and tried to formulate a response; even that was difficult now-a-days.

"Afternoon, Sir! Don't mean to interrupt, but my name's Amelia and I'll be your server."

Arthur tore his eyes away from the glowing screen to gaze up at the pleasing, young face of a blonde waitress with shoulder-length hair and stunning blue eyes. She was decked in the same garb as her co-worker, though it was quite a bit more filled out when she wore it than her former. She balanced a small tray against her shoulder that held a steaming, light-blue cup and matching miniature kettle, complete with sugar, cream, and stirrer. She placed the tray down on the table before him and began dividing it at various points its reflective surface. Arthur spotted the name tag, intrigued to see the name "AMI" on it instead of the title she had just given.

"Thank you, dear, but I didn't order anything yet..."

Amelia stood straight again, holding the tray flat against her middle with both hands wrapped around it.

"Oh I know, Sir. But here at The Tea and Ink, we pride ourselves with being able to read our customers and their beverage of choice. " She reached up to tuck a stray strand of golden hair behind her ear, revealing a pair of red star-earrings that matched the barrett she wore to pull back her bangs. "I saw you as you came in and just knew that you could use a nice warm cup of tea to wake you up and warm those bony cheeks of yours."

Arthur gave the waitress a once-over again, raising his brow at her accusation.

"I see...And what variety of tea, if I may ask, did you decide I was in most need of?" he inquired. He trained his eyes to the woman and sat, expectant.

Amelia waved her hand to dismiss the challenge.

"Why English Breakfast, of course. There aren't many locals that enjoy the dark stuff, but I had a feeling that a gentleman like you would. Plus," she put two fingers over her right brow, winking as she added, "I've never met an American with quite such impressive brows as yours, so I knew that you had to be a tea-cultured Brit."

Arthur wished he'd still had his scarf to cover the flush of heat that radiated out from his cheeks to his ears. He instead huffed, eyes darting quickly to the side where the steaming cup still lay in wait. This kind of behavior was not unusual to him now, but he didn't need it coming from a waitress whose only job was delivering food and washing dishes.

She was lucky she'd gotten it right.

"Ahh...Your deductive reasoning is most impressive." he offered as a snark reply, reaching for the spoon and sugar container to make what his mother liked to call his concoction: Tea-flavored milk. "Well your assistance is most appreciated and I will be sure to call you should I need anything in the future."

With that, he hoped to dismiss her and set about preparing his drink. He pulled the small karaff of cream and poured at least half of it into his mug, adding two lumps for every two seconds of pouring, pausing to stir in between. Just as he finished and was about to put it his lips...he realized that the other still hadn't left his side. He blinked up to the figure, his expression gradually growing more sour by the minute.

"As I said before, thank you for your help and I will be sure to recommend your powers of ingenuity to any other customer who asks, but as of now, I'm no longer in need of anything."

Amelia merely continued to gaze at him with a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. She quickly turned her head to spy the kitchen and row of nearly empty tables behind her. Without warning, she placed her tray on a nearby railing, pulled out the chair opposite Arthur's, and sat down across from him.

"So what brings you to America?"

Arthur nearly sprayed her with tea, having barely taken a sip before she decided to join him. He looked taken-aback by this forward invitation. Still, this was America, after all. Those Americans felt they could do whatever they pleased and get away with it. "Land of the Free" indeed.

"Excuse me, I don't mean to be rude….But surely you have other duties you need to attend to. I don't wish to keep you from them with boring tales of my origin."

"Oh I'm sure they're not boring! And we're over-staffed today anyway." She rolled her eyes. "We're overstaffed all the time, actually, but I digress." Tilting her head to the side, she placed her hand on her cheek. "You're not expecting anyone else, are you?"

"Well, no…"

"Good! Then this seat's not taken and you've got a whole load of tea to go through. Why not spend it with some afternoon conversation?"

Arthur was severely puzzled. This strange, though admittedly attractive, mom-and-pop cafe waitress had just plopped down in front of him and expected him to tell his life story. Yet no matter how he protested the idea, a small voice in the back of his head urged him to take the bait.

"If you must know, I'm a writer. I've come in hopes like many have to make something of myself and improve upon my work." He took a long sip of his tea. It was quite good, actually.

"Ohhhhh…..That's so cool! A writer, huh? What kind of things do you write? Have you written any novels that I might need to pick up? I love reading myself. That's why I work in a book cafe, after all."

Her response was all the motivation Arthur needed to continue, and before he knew it, the entire pot of tea (and two hours) had gone by and Amelia had to return to work.

"Oh! Look at the time-sorry that I kept you from your writing, but it was really great talking with you, Artie! We'll have to do it again some time!"

Arthur ignored the jest at his name and stood up from the table.

"I will say, that is some of the best tea I've had since I moved here. I'll most certainly make my way by here again."

"We open tomorrow at 10! See you then!"

And before Arthur could protest, she'd gathered up his dirty dishes and rushed towards the back, leaving the confused Brit to mull over everything that had just happened, his mind a blur of thoughts and emotions. Perhaps his inspiration had found its way over here to America after all.