Don't ask where this came from, I have no idea. I was supposed to be writing something completely different and then this happened. Well it would be a shame to get rid of a perfectly good chapter so here it is!

Disclaimer: Haha no.


It was a routine, nothing more. He was just another cashier who had the morning shift and she was just another worker who thrived on coffee. Every day, they would exchange smiles as they interacted. She would give her order and he would smile and say the price. She would hand him the money with a small smile and he graciously accept it placing it in the register. He would then offer a charming smile and tell her the wait would be a minute. He would them hand her the coffee and she would express her gratitude and then leave.

It was just a routine, nothing more.

But why did it feel like so much more?

There was nothing extravagant about their daily exchanges. To a normal person, it would be just another normal exchange. And that's all it was. There was nothing unusual.

Then why did they begin to look forward to it each morning?

He would wake up, in his small dingy apartment on the lower east side of Paris and drag himself out of bed. After getting through his daily routine of brushing his hair and teeth, he would slip into his clothes for the day which usually consisted of a black short sleeved tee-shirt and baggy cargo pants with a thin green jacket on top. He would leave his apartment, locking in securely, and head down the street to the small breakfast vendor and grab a croissant and small coffee. He would walk to his job at the small café overlooking Paris that was a few blocks down, eating his breakfast.

After he reached the café, he would toss away his garbage and then head to the back room. Hanging his jacket on the rack in the back and clocking in, he would grab his apron that hung on the apron rack and walk out to the front where he would station himself at the cash register.

She would wake up at six sharp and immediately brush her hair and teeth. She would then do yoga for half an hour and then change into her daily attire, which consisted of an ironed black button blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt that reached above her knees. Slipping into a pair of comfortable black flats, she would head out into the streets, turning on the security system of her luxurious apartment and walk to the café that was a few blocks down.

That was their schedule as far as the other was concerned; the rest of their day was history. Their exchange was completely trivial and uniform.

But at some point, it became a little less trivial and a bit more important.

It had started with him moticing how she would tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as she ordered and the fact that she was strikingly beautiful. She had noticed that he had a quite breathtaking smile and that he couldn't stay still, he was always fidgeting or doing something with his hands.

They kept noticing little things about each other and soon she would find herself waking up and double checking to make sure her hair fell straight, thinking about the charming (since when has she ever thought of him as charming?) man behind the cash register.

He would find himself repeatedly checking his breath to make sure it didn't smell as bad as his roommates feet so that he wouldn't scare off the beautiful (he couldn't deny that she was lovely) woman who ordered the medium cappuccino with three sugars every morning.

Their short exchanges grew longer, banter often finding its way into the conversation. Witty remarks and sly comments would be passed and both would leave the café at their respective times, with the conversation ringing in their minds. Some days, their hands would accidentally brush as she gave him the money or as he handed over the coffee. They would immediately retract their hands, both wondering if the other felt the jolt of electricity. Some days, their conversations would pass mindless banter and evolve into an actual conversation, making her late for work and he was left with angry impatient customers.

They were growing quite fond of each other, for reasons unknown to them. They were still strangers as it was, but they felt a growing connection between them anyway.

They had both narrowed it down to their non-existent love life. That must be why they were growing so attached. Why else would they feel so attached to complete strangers?

But it was just a routine, nothing more.

So what would happen if the routine broke?

Their routine extended just throughout the week, during the weekends, their paths never crossed.

Until that day.

She had slept in, it was a Saturday what self-respecting person got up early on a Saturday for goodness sake? She woke up and made herself some waffles and ate them in silence, thinking about a deal that had been offered at her job. She finished up her meal and placed her plate in the sink and heading to her room to get dressed for the day.

She slipped into a blank tank top and threw on a white short sleeved button shirt over it, leaving the buttons open. After wiggling into a pair of black skinny jeans and brushing her hair until it fell straight, she smiled and grabbed her iPhone. She plugged in her headphones and headed out, making sure to lock the door as she left.

He had refused to get up until the sun was high in the sky, even then he only got up because his darned roommate had jumped on him, squishing him. He angrily got up and chased him around for a half an hour with a shoe before giving up and returning to bed. He had planned to get up when the sun was setting but his roommate had other plans, dropping a bucket of cold water onto him.

He shot up and screamed at him, chasing him around once more this time with a hard cover book. His roommate howled with laughter as he shot out the door, saying he would be back at night. He has grumbled and went to dry himself off. After drying himself off, he slipped into a pair of baggy jeans and dark green shirt with a black hoodie on top of it. Eating some cereal and then deciding to go for a walk, he grabbed his dark green jacket and slipped it on top of his hoodie.

They were walking, exactly six blocks away from each other, three blocks from an intersection of both their roads. They walked in silence, her listening to her iPod and him, quietly sulking on the morning's events with his hood up.

Too caught up in their own worlds, they ran into each other, literally. They both stumbled back a few steps and snapped their heads up to glare at whomever they had bumped into.

Their eyes widened when they realized who they had bumped into.

"Medium cappuccino with three sugars girl?" He asked surprised, a faint blush creeping up on him.

She rolled her eyes, "The one and only." She replied a blush of her own spreading across her face.

He nodded, "Oh. Hi." He offered lamely.

She smiled, "Hi."

Acting on impulse he asked, "Want to go get a coffee? I know this great café down the street; I know this guy and I think he'll give us a discount." He said, smirking a bit.

She smiled and nodded, "I think I would like that." She said. He smiled and motioned for her to lead the way. She blushed and started walking and he matched her pace. They quickly fell into a casual conversation about life around them, talking about politics, sports, their social lives and their working lives.

They reached the café and he held the door open for her, she gave a quiet 'thank you' and entered the café.

This time, Cashier Boy was at her side, not on the other side of the counter.

AS the day progressed, they found themselves enjoying the other's company very much. They learned random things about each other. Like for example, he had an older sister, could play soccer extremely well, had a very strange liking for pickles and loved crescent moons. She had a younger brother, was excellent in pencak silat (something they had in common and could name any song that reached the Top 100 charts in the year 2004.

At one point, both had admitted to growing used to the routine they had been accustomed to and found this situation strange. But they both said that they wouldn't change it if they had the chance.

Maybe it was a good thing the routine was broken she thought as he wrapped his arm around her waist as he walked her back to her place that night.

"Good night Yumi." He said kindly.

She smiled, "Good night Ulrich." She said, kissing him on the cheek. His eyes widened and he felt himself blush. She raised an eyebrow an amused look on her face and he cleared his throat.

"So same time tomorrow?" He asked.

She laughed, "Let's not make a routine of this." She joked.

He lifted an eyebrow, "And would that be so wrong?" He replied.

She gave him a quick once-over before smiling, "Maybe not." She said coyly.

Sometimes routines were meant to be broken.


Not sure how to feel about this, was it developed enough? Did you like it? R&R?