Rumi Cafe Novels & Stories

As much as she wanted to leave the exclusive cafe premises, she has to wait for the person she invites to show up. She positioned her seat near the cafe entrance, next to the window. True to its name, the cafe also added a classic looking bell above the door to signal the waiters of incoming guests. Her face brightened when she saw the man he invited was seen through the glass pane wall. The classy man who investigated the crime, Roy Kurniawan. He came through the door as his eyes searched for the person who invited him over. "Mr. Roy! I am over here!" Rina raised her hand.

Then placing her matching handbag on the table, she was about to talk when the waiter came with a huge cup of Macchiato and placing the cup on the table the waiter asked in a very welcoming tone, "Any order for you, Mam?" "Yes same for her," Instead of Ruth Nicolas replied the waiter. Nodding his head in a very respectable way the waiter left them alone again. Macchiato used to be their favorite coffee of that Cafe with extra cream. It was actually the specialty of that Cafe. Everytime they used to come, they used to order that coffee. While sipping in the cup of the coffee, Nicolas asked Ruth in his usual composed tone, "Now tell Ruth. What do you want to talk about?"

Just the quiet hum of Verona and the faint scent of cologne fading into nothing. Fenrak’s grin faltered for the first time that day. --- Across town, Rhea was steaming milk behind the counter of Café Rosa, her apron dusted with cocoa powder and the faint scent of cinnamon. The morning rush had passed, leaving soft jazz playing from the speaker and sunlight spilling through the glass front. “Rhea, one cappuccino and two espresso shots!” Lena called from the side. “On it!” Rhea replied, smiling. Her movements were smooth now, confident — she’d picked up the rhythm quickly.

That same day, Ryan returned to Salem city. He talked with multiple parties and managed to buy four properties and signed the deal. His confidence boosted very much. As he was returning home, he purposely stopped by Lucia’s cafe. The painting works finished, and the cafe looked modern and luxurious now. He sat by a table and was smiling at Lucia. There was no customer aside from Ryan. “We’re closing the cafe,” Lucia said from the counter. “There’s still two minutes left,” Ryan retorted. “I want a cream coffee. Elena’s favorite.”

“I promise. You’ll have the best coffee of your life today.” We left the museum together, the sun still mild on our faces as we descended the white stone staircase. He guided me through the nearby streets to a charming café tucked away among trees. The name in cursive letters on the glass read Le Ruisseau, and the aroma of ground coffee wafted out before we even opened the door. We sat at a small table in the corner, with a view of the street. I ordered a cappuccino. He ordered a double espresso, which didn't surprise me at all.

She woke midday to the taste of wood-smoke and yeasted air and a wet ache in the joints of her hand. Mira had stacked the day’s orders in a ledger so neat even the inspectors would have wept for shame, and the twins had not only cleaned the dough hook but polished the base so hard the reflection warped. The first customer was the red-haired carrier from the southern post, carrying a basket of mail and a rumor: three blocks east, a cafe had been raided in the night. No charges, but a warning painted in neon on the glass: OBEY.

The café opened on a Thursday in May, which Remi had chosen deliberately, because she had quit on a Tuesday and she wanted to be reminded that good things happened on the unremarkable days. The building was on a side road in Peckham and the front of it was painted the green of a plant Remi had photographed in Lisbon on a holiday she had almost not taken, and the chairs inside were wooden and mismatched in a way that had been very carefully considered to look unconsidered. When you walked in

It wasn’t easy running a restaurant that way as it requires lots of partnerships and meetings with each spice company so they can be supplied at the desired time. “Ma’am, we’re here at the ‘country’s cafe,’” the driver informed, breaking her from her thoughts. She quickly barred her head and stared at the outside of the cafe. This cafe was one of the best in the city. Not only in the city but the country. That was why it was called the ‘country’s cafe.’ Different people from around the country transport to this place just to have the taste of their signature coffee. It was a mixture of flavors together which many other cafes had tried to imitate but never got it. She was here to meet up with

he told me and I nodded. We got to that cafe and I smiled upon seeing the name. The cafe looked so comfy. It seemed like a place that you could read a book while drinking your coffee. “Thank you!” I shouted and closed the door. I walked to the entrance with a soft smile on my lips and opened the door. The bell chimed as I walked in. “Welcome to Comcafe. What would you like to order?” a voice said immediately I entered the cafe. I walked to the counter and ordered a cappuccino. “Take a seat. Your order will be coming soon.” she said and I choose a seat beside the window.

Will name it: Maharani Cafe & Gallery, that’s our deal. Nice, huh? ***