Novel & Cerita Coklat Panas Malam Musim Dingin My Cafe

My eyes dropped to his nameplate and I smiled. “Okay. Thanks, Mars.” I went to one of the tables and sat on one of the chairs. There were only a few customers inside the Café. That was also one I love here. It was not crowded. After a few minutes, Mars arrived carrying my food. “One can of Dream Cake Chocolate flavor and Molten Lava,” he said and put it on my table. “Anything else, ma’am?” “None. Thank you,” I replied with a smile. He smiled back and went back to the counter.

It felt like a piece of cake got stuck in my throat, so I walked into the cafe, pushed open the glass door, and headed towards the end table near the window. From where I'm seated, I can spot the white hospital building off in the distance, along with the towering circular wall that encloses the training arena where the pack warriors usually train. "What can I get for you, miss?" A waiter who seemed to be in her early twenties came up to me, holding a menu. I looked at the menu for a moment. "Hot caramel macchiato with almond milk, please." "Okay, your order will be here in ten minutes." She said that, then walked away from my table.

“Oh, you mean one of them?” She nearly choked. Inside Caffé Noire, the air was scented with Madagascar vanilla and overachievers. People were typing on MacBook Pros, drinking espresso out of double-walled crystal cups, pretending to be authors, startup CEOs, or tortured philosophers. The chandeliers sparkled. The baristas wore silk aprons. The coffee? Started at half a cent and came with emotional damage. We sat at a corner velvet booth near the window. I snapped my fingers once—Mateo, my favorite barista, appeared instantly.

“Nice meeting you Ms. Dusk.” “I guess my disguise is busted.” She sat down beside me and removed her cap and glasses. The man held his breath as he stared at us in awe. “Fascinating.” “Okay. So, what’s your business with us?” “Of course.” He nodded slowly. Shaking off his fascination towards them. “I actually own a café just a few blocks away from here. The Sweet Tooth Lounge.” “Oh yeah. I’ve seen that.” I’m getting interested about this. “By the way. My name is Zen, a professional pastry chef and I would like to offer a partnership. I’ll be supplying cakes to you and in return, you will share your coffee secret with us.”

I had been planning for some time to take Sarah out for a special dinner at a renowned restaurant owned by wolves, a place known for its exquisite cuisine and welcoming atmosphere. We arrived at the restaurant shortly after five o'clock, finding it bustling with activity and filled to capacity. We settled into a cozy corner where we enjoyed a delightful candlelit dinner accompanied by live music that created a warm, inviting atmosphere. As our meal concluded, I suggested we take a leisurely nighttime stroll through the restaurant's lush garden, which featured a small, tranquil pond that added to its charm.

Although it's winter, the temperature is surprisingly pleasant, warmer than in Florence. “Two hot cocoas, please. And two pieces of Castagnaccio.” Lisette asks the waitress, without looking at the menu. The woman quickly walks away. “You'll love the hot cocoa here! And the pie? Ah, I've missed it so much!” She says to Eleonor.

“Oh! Always.” We drive in silence for the next 20 minutes and he pulls into a classy looking cafe with a medium sized signage that reads, ‘Brown Cafe’. I pull out my phone and turn on my location to know the address of the cafe for future purposes. I go inside and the smell of coffee greets me, and some freshly baked bread is staring at me. The whole cafe is filled with brown everything, brown tables and chairs, staff in brown uniforms, brown floor and brown wallpaper with some touches of cream. I find a seat, and a waiter comes to my table with a menu. “I’ll have item 6. Thank you.” I tell him, and keep looking around in awe of this cafe.

My senses are heightened by having my vision blocked. I breathe in the scent of the room. Cinnamon. And something else that I can't determine. Some aromatic plant like jasmine. -Let the aroma fill your senses, Maria. "Put a glass in my hands." I breathe in the aroma of the mystery drink. It is red wine. -Good choice, Casanova, ”I say as I take a long sip of the cool wine. -I thought you would like a Chianti Ruffino. You look like you like smooth Italian wines.

“Do you want hot or cold, bitter or sweet, coffee or tea?” “Not too sweet. I think an iced coffee would be nice,” he says as his voice upturns making his statement sound like a question. “Lana, let’s see if he will like an iced salted caramel macchiato. He loves cookies, so how about the triple chocolate chip.” She grins, “Sure thing, Miss. You seem to know your friend quite well.” There is something different about this barista. Clint and I take our seats while she prepares our drinks and fetches our snacks. I lean over to Clint and whisper, “Lana seems different.”

“Fine. But if anyone tries to get me to sing ‘Jingle Bell Rock,’ I’m filing an HR complaint.” Marcus fist-pumped. “Yes!” “But I swear,” she added, “if you touch the cocoa machine and break it again—” “That was an accident!” “You burned your name into the side.” “A happy accident.” The outing was set for 8:30, right after closing. By 8:32, everyone was bundled up in winter coats and filing into “Cup & Note,” the quirky café three blocks from BuyMore that doubled as a karaoke bar on Fridays. The lights were dim, the windows fogged, and the interior was decked out in fake snow, pine garlands, and mismatched armchairs.