It had been a long couple of hours. By the time they had made it to the cafe, he already felt fatigued. His entire body. There was a lingering haze in his mind and his joints were displeased with any sort of movement. Even his muscles were a bit stiff, not wanting to comply and walk along the cobblestone street. As much as he tried, he just couldn't shake it. Mentally he felt caught up - knew where he was, what he was doing, why he was there. But his body was lagging behind, stuck somewhere back in the states. Longing for a comfortable bed and just a few more hours. He knew what he needed and it needed to come fast.
So when he walked through the open doors of the cafe his heart skipped a beat. There, wafting through the air was the heavenly aroma of coffee. Unlike anything he had smelled before. Deep and rich. Dark roasted. Absolutely invasive - diving far down into his lungs and grabbing hold. Strong enough that just a few breaths seemed to help wake him. He couldn't wait to bring a mug to his lips and taste the coffee as it ran over his tongue. Somewhere behind the counter he could hear the hissing of steaming milk, the dripping of espresso. He could feel his mouth watering. It was torture.
When it was finally his turn to order, it only became harder. He knew what to say and how to say it. He had studied for hours, preparing himself for this exact moment but the exhaustion was fighting against him. His instinct was screaming on the inside but the haze that was in his head made him nervous. Finally after a few stumbles and stutters, he let the words escape from his mouth. Luckily the woman behind the counter understood the barrier he was trying to overcome and immediately smiled back - she knew what he wanted. As she made her way down the counter to prepare his drinks, he let himself become lost in the environment. He was surprisingly hot. It was winter, yet he hadn't needed a jacket while walking outside. The early morning sun poured in through the windows and open doors, illuminating the interior with a lovely glow. Warm and inviting. Above him large fans spun lazily, sending a nice draft throughout the space. He was also pleased to find how busy the cafe was. All around him couples mingled. Old and young, sipping on coffee, sharing assorted breads and accoutrements - lost in each others' words. An older man sat in the corner, sipping from a mug, engaged in a newspaper.
There was an energy about the place that he was beginning to feed off of. Even before the cappuccino arrived.
Turning back towards the counter, he became lost in the collects of cups spread out before him. There was just something about the different sizes and shapes that pulled him in. He imagined who had used each piece. If the one yellow mug with the 'M' was for someone specific. Maybe a regular who hadn't shown up yet. Or if the shape of the kettle determined if it would hold tea or coffee. The more he looked, the more he saw a few pieces that didn't match the others. Maybe the owner liked mixing it up a bit or maybe they had run out at one point and a few needed to be purchased spur of the moment. As he continued to day dream, he didn't even notice that the woman behind the counter had slid a tray in front of him. It wasn't until he smelled the espresso that he snapped back to reality. Looking down at what lay before him, he heart skipped a beat.
Two perfectly poured cappuccinos - lightly dusted with cocoa. Plates that held pieces of freshly baked artisan bread piled with cured meats. A bottle of olive oil. And a jar of what appeared to be pureed tomato.
As he walked over to the table with the tray, his stomach had begun to knot. It was desperate. Ready to meet what was on the plates in front of him. Sitting down, he just hoped he had gotten her order right as well. By the look on her face he assumed he did. From there - he followed her lead. Smoothing a thin layer of oil out on the bread before pouring on some of the puree. Then the meat went back on top before finally being doused again with more tomato. Before he committed and pick up a piece, he tackled his coffee - following his own little routine - emptying out a packet of sugar onto the foam, watching it slowly become enveloped in the froth before stirring it in. The longer it took - the better he knew it would taste. When that was done there was only one thing left to do before diving in.
He lifted his mug to cheers her to what was sure to be a perfect breakfast on a perfect adventure.
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