Writing Prompt

I run down the street towards my favorite cafe. I had gotten caught in the rain, gradually growing into a storm. The rain soaked my hair and clothes as my shoes squelched between quickened steps.

Tension falls from my shoulders as I reach the door. People sit, chatting and dining as if the world outside didn’t exist.

I head to the bathroom quickly as my shoes squeak on the gorgeous, wood floors. Reaching the bathroom, I finally see myself in the mirror. Makeup running, hair stuck to my forehead with the appearance of a drowned rat.

I attempt to squeeze myself under the hand dryer, hoping to dry enough to where my jeans are no longer glued to my legs.

Getting as dry as I can, I head back and sit in the closest seat available. I look around, taking in the coziness, feeling the warmth from the small heater placed behind me.

Vanilla Latte Warm and creamy Mug of white and ivory Whipped cream and choclate drizzle Sipping and wtaching the window

Hand in hand Shoulder to Shoulder Loungedon the sofa skimming a book In a quaint quiet nook blankets drapped across our legs Sipping the drinks in hand

Raindrops fall Pitter Patter Painting puctures across the window The tears on heaven Turn to drops on earth The puddles watching us watching them

Window cold Blinds are pulled up A beautiful picture painted with life Drip drop across the window Racing down the panes The sun starts to set waving goodbye leaving us to cry under the moonlight

The books stacked high One shelfs even higher An arrangement at which to marvel A soft fuzzy carpet Gentle mysic whips in the air Chitter chatter but not to loud a perfect combination

A cozy cafe Sitting on the mainstreet a destination in our minuscule town Coffee and tea love and poetry Books and rain An amazing place to stay Is this cozy cafe

The small college town was very simple. Only the local gas station, a small IGA , and the locally owned cafe, used book exchange and favorite hangout for all, The Snoring Beagle Cafe. Daisy ran the bakery in the cafe, baking homemade cinnamon rolls and bread, as well as seasonal cakes and cupcakes. Her sister Anne ran the cafe, serving freshly brewed coffee and tea, and the daily assortment of freshly sliced deli meats and sides. Perhaps the best trait of the cafe was the mascot, a swayback pop belly Beagle named Nash. His snoring couldn't be ignored, but with the hum of voices and the pop of the large woodburning fireplace, no one minded. Seating in the cafe was close enough together that you could talk with your bestie or a group, but sit alone and read or listen to your own music with your ear buds. Located in the mountain town of Montague, the weather was usually cool and dry in the summer and cold and wet in the winter. On a rainy afternoon, every oversized chair and ottoman were filled with students and locals, sipping a warm beverage and warming by the fire. Nash would make his rounds to receive a scratch on his head or belly, then settle in his favorite spot by the stone hearth and began to snore. The tin roof made the most of the rain and the sound could lull you to sleep. Some read, some talked or listened to music, and some wrote their own stories. When evening arrived and the twinkling lights on the cafe front came on, people would stretch and began packing up their goods to return to campus of home. Some would order a to go order for their supper, others would make plans to meet at the cafe the next day and leave with a smile on their face, knowing they would return to this safe haven soon.

I settle on the wooden bench along the wall. The sun spills through the bay window on my right, interrupted by passersby heading to work. Droplets race down the glass, flickers of light captured within them. How rain falls while the sun still shines I’ll never know.

It’s quiet here. In the other room, muffled sounds of creation mix with vague voices and laughter. I place my notebook on the table in front of me and take a deep breath. Smells of earth, cocoa, and sugar cane fill my lungs. The rain stops but the remnants on the glass remain. With a smile to a stranger who sits close by, I open my book and lift my pen. All the pieces are falling into place, and inspiration is rising.

The sodden-streets of Paris were reflected in puddles , droplets of rain - that grew in to mini tsunamis- clogged up rapidly in all the drains .

A welcoming atmosphere embraced all the people that walked through the door , coats were offered ; towels were hung neatly on pegs to take free of charge , while cozy chairs ( with cushions)were located around tables .

Being A warm refuge , that was were Marie Pascal found herself ; surrounded by the candlelight and plenty of well-used books to keep her entertainment .

Kate wiped down the countertop for what felt like the hundredth time that day. It wasn’t like the small cafe was empty; quite the opposite in fact. On days like this, customers would come in, order maybe one thing, and then linger to do work on their laptops to the sound of gentle raindrops hitting the roof. The sound was quite nice, and Kate wished she could grab her laptop and finish her homework. Unfortunately, despite how few orders were coming in, her manager forbade using personal devices while there were customers in the building.

And so she waited, but it wasn’t all bad. Customers came and went; the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling the space every time someone ordered; the taps of umbrellas against doorframe to dry them; the squeaks of the wet shoes of customers who neglected the door mat. Some of Kate’s friends from Uni came to say hi, and her girlfriend Jane came to visit and bring her some lunch. Kate and Jane sat quietly as they ate together, listening to the peaceful noises of the rain. Jane couldn’t stay forever, and she soon left with a kiss from Kate. With almost comedic timing, the rain picked up strength the moment Jane stepped outside. With a giggle, Kate returned to her station and wiped the counter down for the four-hundredth time.

Finally it was closing time. The last customer left with a smile and a wave, and Kate locked the door. The tables were cleaned and the chairs were placed on top of them. She took one last look at the cafe for the day and, for good measure, wiped the counter down for the six-hundredth time. The lights were turned off, the door alarm was armed, and she took off home. She practically skipped down the street, jumping in every puddle she saw with a big smile plastered to her face. It was a long and boring shift, and she was relieved it was over, but she was happy she got to enjoy a rainy day at the cafe.

A bell tinkles overhead as she flung the door open, blissfully escaping the deluge at last. The rain continued to beat against the tall windows, as if to curse her for escaping its clutches.

The room smelled warmly of roasted beans and the faint smell of old paperback novels, due to the large bookshelves taking up much of the back wall.

Carefully, she divulged herself of her rain jacket and umbrella, hanging them besides the door on an old, worn coat rack, that seemed to be getting a lot of business today.

“Hello,” the barista said warmly, her youthful face pleasant and kind. “What can I get for you? Something to warm you up from that rain?”

“Cafe au lait, please.” Digging around her bag for loose change, she looks around the rest of the cafe, drinking in the familiar sight. Large, overstuffed chairs were clustered around low tables by the windows, full of patrons extending their stay, not eager to emerge once more into the storm. The long butcher block tables in the center were occupied with a mixture of students focused on the novels or laptops before them, some young children exuberantly playing a board game, and a group of elderly women splitting a slice of pound cake.

“Cafe au lait, up.”

thanking the young woman and grabbing her drink, she heads towards the favorite worn chair in the corner. Back to the book shelves, it gave the perfect vantage point of the rest of the shop. From here, she could easily observe the other patrons and those passing by on the street in peace.

This seat had provided years of inspiration for her stories, characters stemming from an odd fashion choice here, an over zealous motion there. If the staff at the cafe had any issues with the prolonged stays, they never said so.

It had, of course, also led to a mild caffeine addiction, but what can you do. There were worse vices.

Pleasantly defrosted by now, she took a minute to breathe in the rich nutty aroma of the cafes house dark roast. It was hard not to smile at the warm, familiar comfort, as she opens her laptop and settles in, reviewing the writing prompt of the day.

“Describe a cozy, small town cafe on a rainy afternoon.”

Smiling slightly to herself, she begins to write.

As you walk into the café the strong aroma of coffee and assorted desserts greets you. You close your bright yellow umbrella that gives a pop of color to the woodsy brown and soft grey colors that is the café. After you order your coffee you sit down at a wooden table that is made of mahogany. It is cold and smooth to the touch. Your chair is right next to the rain covered window. You watch as the rain continues to fall and make thousands of little puddles on the asphalt outside. You listen to the subtle piano music playing on the speakers, and the soft chatter of other customers speaking with each other about the weather, or what was on the news yesterday. When your coffee is ready you take it back to your seat and take a sip. It’s warm and rich, and tastes like a nice day in the fall. You enjoy your coffee and then throw the empty cup into the waste bin. As you put up your umbrella you take one last deep breath, breathing in the sweet smell of coffee and step back into the unforgiving rain and head home.

Today, it is one of the coldest afternoons I have ever experienced to the point my nose feels like they are frozen. The heavy raindrops pounce on my umbrella and freezing wind blows chill into my body even with 3 layers of jackets. As I'm walking back from work in the pouring rain and bitter wind, a bright red sign catches my attention. Not the red light or stop light. Behind the window of a cafe, a sign says "OPEN" with bright red letters. Right under, it boldly reassured, "Enjoy a cozy moment while drinking delicious cafe." Looking through the window, a person sips their coffee while reading a newspaper. I couldn't fight the urge to rush in, once I open the door, the warm air of the cafe rushes onto my face. I feel like I'm in a completely different world, where the warm atmosphere and the rich scent of coffee welcomed me.

Today, it is the coldest afternoon I have ever experienced. The rain pounces on my umbrella and the wind blows through my five layers of clothes, into my body. As I walk along the street of the town in the pouring rain and bitter wind, a bright red sign catches my eye. It isn't the red light or a stop sign. It is the cafe, which says "OPEN." Right under, it reassured, "Enjoy a cozy moment while drinking delicious cafe." Even though my house was only about ten minutes away, I need to take a break from this grueling weather. I can't fight the urge to rush in. Once I open the door, the warm air of the cafe rushes onto my face. I feel like I'm in a completely different world, where the warm atmosphere and the rich scent of coffee welcomed me.