the cafe

On certain still mornings, when the wind blows gently through the tall birch trees and rustles the leaves on the ground, the birds awaken and begin to chirp away. Birchwood city was unlike any other. It wasn’t heavily built up and forests stood tall and were rarely cleared. The people of Birchwood would only take what they needed and it was preferred to build on land that was already flat or re-design old buildings to make way for new businesses.

The café was not very large, but it was a comfortable size in which were packed at least 20 tables and chairs to accompany them. The single door opened inward, a bell happily rang a greeting, and the fresh, crisp scent of a new day filled his nose. Every wall was painted a light yellow with black decorative designs. There was much preparation to be done before the café could open; the chairs needed to be taken off the tops of the round tables and set nicely on the floor, the morning's coffee needed to be brewed, and mum needed to make some of her fresh muffins. He smiled happily and hummed to himself as he mopped the floors, set the chairs down, and cleaned off the granite counter. When everything was done, and only the muffins needed to be made, He took a step back, brushed a piece of curly dark hair from his forehead and smiled widely at his accomplishment. The café was almost ready to open. Pieces of artwork his younger sister had painted hung on the wall, making it seem homey and pleasant.