Novel & Cerita Midnight Café

I quickly deviated from the scene to take in the café. As the gentle chime of the brass bell announced the arrival of more people, I relaxed into the cozy embrace of a quaint French-style café. The air was filled with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee, mingling with the sweet scent of delicate pastries and freshly baked bread. The warm, golden glow of vintage pendant lights illuminated the space, creating a welcoming ambiance that invited you to linger and savor the moment.

Raleigh's Pov A New Name, In A New City The doorbell hanging just above the quiet café jingled as I pulled it open. A warm scent of coffee welcomed me immediately I stepped a foot into the room. It was indeed quiet and quaint with no curious eyes watching by the corners. It was exactly what I needed at the moment. “You are welcome to Cocoa and Canvas,” the barista had said but with a well rehearsed smile. On her wrist lay boldly a crescent moon tattoo, all colored green. “Searching for a reserved caffeine or ready to explore your creativity?”

These were Vivian’s tips for dinners, dates and douches. “What are you ordering Love?” I hadn't read the menu not feeling hungry. “Pasta. Surprise me.” I replied while my eyes wandering around the tavern. Eric raised a questioning glance at me. He leaned over pouring wine. “You seem tense.” No really. I'm alone with the king and I have no idea why. I kept my mouth shut and didn't answer. Eric took a swig from his glass his dark brown eyes reflecting the candlelight. I stared at my wine not trusting the drink. It could be poisoned or drugged, not something I was willing to risk..

“I figured you would like to see a little bit of the town so we're meeting at the Steakhouse in town instead of the cafeteria.” “You mean the restaurant we went to the other day is just the cafeteria? But the food was so good.” “Yeah, Kent funds it as a free place for any pack members to eat. A few years before he became Alpha he started noticing that some of our pack members were having a hard time feeding their families and convinced Dad to open the cafeteria. That’s why it’s hidden in the woods, no more mortals aloud.” Alice snickered.

My mind blurred Marianne. "Okay, let's go to this cafeteria," I agreed. I was looking forward to hearing everything he had to say to me. But also, let me tell him everything I was keeping in my heart. We entered the cafe hand in hand. We found an empty table near a window and somewhat away from the other customers and sat down. When the waiter came to our table, we gave him our order, and in a few minutes, he returned with our coffees. Steamy and fragrant.

Aunt Adele is a 20 year old trapped inside a 45 years old body. The next day I woke up to a beautiful scenario outside the window of my room. The lake water was sparkling under the bright sun and the birds were singing songs of happiness. Aunt made my favourite Belgium waffles for breakfast and asked me if I wanted to go to wallmart with her later. I said no because I wanted to enjoy the solitude and paint for awhile. My aunt left the house by 4pm after lunch and I, after taking a quick nap sat down for painting on my little canvases.

Maya’s POV Midnight is rude. It removes logic. It removes fear. It removes clothing in your imagination before you can stop it. And unfortunately, my imagination has a favorite victim. My next door neighbor is tall, unfairly attractive, and has the kind of voice that could convince a nun to sin without even raising his tine My name is Maya Collins. I am nineteen. I am supposed to be focused on saving my family business, finishing university, and behaving like a responsible adult.

I straightened up and started walking. Café Noir was about fifteen minutes on foot from my house. It was this small‚ dimly lit coffee shop on the corner of Fifth and Maple that opened at five every morning because the owner was an insomniac who liked the company. During the afternoon it was all college students with laptops and moms with strollers. At six in the morning it was the early risers‚ the insomniacs‚ and the people who had reasons to be meeting someone before the rest of the world woke up.

I sighed a nearby café, open 24/7, it looked like a place of refuge where I could sit, breathe and to stop feeling like shit. I walked the few blocks, my hood up, my eyes down, avoiding the morning joggers and dog-walkers. The café’s neon sign buzzed “Open,” and I pushed through the door, the bell jangling. The smell of coffee and burnt toast hit me the place was quiet, a few early risers at the counter, a student typing furiously on a laptop. I went into a corner booth, my breath still uneven, and ordered a water, waving off the barista’s menu.

MILES Sunday mornings were always a sanctuary for me, a time to rejuvenate and find solace in the simple pleasures of life. With a spring in my step, I made my way to the quaint little café tucked away on a peaceful corner. As I entered the café, I was greeted by the familiar aroma of freshly ground coffee beans, floating in the air like a comforting embrace. The soft jazz music playing in the background soothed my soul, as I made my way to my usual spot near the window. The cozy booth overlooked a small park, where people walked their dogs or simply basked in the early morning sunshine.