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Her heels did all but click against the pavement, the weight shifted to her toes. It was not for the floating stride she achieved by the adjustment, but to move quickly across the shifting strips of cobblestone that would appear on this side of town. Tucked away in a niche that bordered the Hudson, a line of boutiques speckled with the city’s upper-crust would be nestled beside convenient brunch spots and lavish establishments. It was just beyond that stretch, drenched in posh entertainment, that the pavement began to stutter. Mismatched cobblestone would mimic the feeling of a Parisian street, with a blaring sunny morning to match. The scent of cigar smoke would waft down the way, warning any young, trendy socialites away.
Here, would rest the family-owned joints. Restaurants and relaxed cafes with the best view of garden-hedged apartments and the water looming beyond. She was lucky that a gentrified neighborhood bridged her destination, allowing her the freedom to slip into her favorite café. A small eatery at the corner of the Olde Town street, where chatter permeated the air as much as the aroma of freshly baked bread. Each morning, they produced the finest grain of pastries- the heat of their brick ovens rivaling the onslaught of the risen sun.
By the afternoon, people would crowd the outside tables- exchanging conversation over imported wine and Italian espresso. Thus, the morning was an easy time to weave her way through tables unseen. The flutter of her powder-blue dress clung to her legs with the breeze, fastened snugly around her waist in a fitted bodice; whilst the sheer bishop sleeves shivered in the wind. It was impossible to contain the smile curling her rosy lips, pulling at her conventionally cold expression. She was excited to finally acquire what she’d been craving for the last week and a half. It wasn’t very long ago she had the freedom to pick up danishes every Tuesday morning without fail. But security had been running tight, as of late. Like a snake, narrowing its grip until she was suffocated by it.
There were a few people outside as she’d passed into the indoor portion of the café. The barista at the front counter spotted her almost instantly, her eyes lighting up. “Miss Dra-” the girl moved to greet her, freezing when she saw Esmeray press a finger to her mouth.
“Shh…” Esmeray warned, resting her fingertips on the lip of the counter. “Don’t want anyone finding out I’ve been here.” She punctuated her statement with a grin, her left hand sliding towards the pocket hidden between her lengthy skirts.
The barista’s expression softened in understanding. “Of course. You really do like your pastries, huh?” The girl retorted with a sly expression, turning towards the kitchen. She didn’t have to ask what Esmeray would be having. It was always the same order. One pain au chocolat, toasted, three blueberry cheese danishes, and five butter croissants. Plus the occasional tart, if it were in season.
“I do,” she said decidedly, “thanks Melody.”
Within a few moments, Melody returned with her order. It was packaged neatly in a white box, tied shut with twine so to have a handle. Even so, Esmeray always carried the box with two hands. Partially from her excitement to devour its contents, and also in fear she might ruin them by being careless.
Just as she pulled out her wallet to pay, Melody was being flagged down by one of the waiters. Probably needing assistance for the outside. The barista turned back towards the counter with an apologetic smile, rushing off to meet her coworker. “Sorry, one sec.” She mouthed, Esmeray waving her off in response. She had a little time before anyone noticed her straying from the designated path. So she waited patiently at the counter, wishing the girl luck.
“It’s no trouble, take care of what you need to.” Esmeray called after her in a light, sing-song tone. She was happy. Clearly enjoying her detour.
Here, would rest the family-owned joints. Restaurants and relaxed cafes with the best view of garden-hedged apartments and the water looming beyond. She was lucky that a gentrified neighborhood bridged her destination, allowing her the freedom to slip into her favorite café. A small eatery at the corner of the Olde Town street, where chatter permeated the air as much as the aroma of freshly baked bread. Each morning, they produced the finest grain of pastries- the heat of their brick ovens rivaling the onslaught of the risen sun.
By the afternoon, people would crowd the outside tables- exchanging conversation over imported wine and Italian espresso. Thus, the morning was an easy time to weave her way through tables unseen. The flutter of her powder-blue dress clung to her legs with the breeze, fastened snugly around her waist in a fitted bodice; whilst the sheer bishop sleeves shivered in the wind. It was impossible to contain the smile curling her rosy lips, pulling at her conventionally cold expression. She was excited to finally acquire what she’d been craving for the last week and a half. It wasn’t very long ago she had the freedom to pick up danishes every Tuesday morning without fail. But security had been running tight, as of late. Like a snake, narrowing its grip until she was suffocated by it.
There were a few people outside as she’d passed into the indoor portion of the café. The barista at the front counter spotted her almost instantly, her eyes lighting up. “Miss Dra-” the girl moved to greet her, freezing when she saw Esmeray press a finger to her mouth.
“Shh…” Esmeray warned, resting her fingertips on the lip of the counter. “Don’t want anyone finding out I’ve been here.” She punctuated her statement with a grin, her left hand sliding towards the pocket hidden between her lengthy skirts.
The barista’s expression softened in understanding. “Of course. You really do like your pastries, huh?” The girl retorted with a sly expression, turning towards the kitchen. She didn’t have to ask what Esmeray would be having. It was always the same order. One pain au chocolat, toasted, three blueberry cheese danishes, and five butter croissants. Plus the occasional tart, if it were in season.
“I do,” she said decidedly, “thanks Melody.”
Within a few moments, Melody returned with her order. It was packaged neatly in a white box, tied shut with twine so to have a handle. Even so, Esmeray always carried the box with two hands. Partially from her excitement to devour its contents, and also in fear she might ruin them by being careless.
Just as she pulled out her wallet to pay, Melody was being flagged down by one of the waiters. Probably needing assistance for the outside. The barista turned back towards the counter with an apologetic smile, rushing off to meet her coworker. “Sorry, one sec.” She mouthed, Esmeray waving her off in response. She had a little time before anyone noticed her straying from the designated path. So she waited patiently at the counter, wishing the girl luck.
“It’s no trouble, take care of what you need to.” Esmeray called after her in a light, sing-song tone. She was happy. Clearly enjoying her detour.