Life with Lemons | Part One…

[ShortStoryWriter]

The dim light on the menu chalk boards behind the counter are just one of many comforting aspects of a café. The smell of hot, ground coffee beans and fresh pastries. The sound of dull chatter that constantly circulates around this nook of the town. People discussing work, family and life in general. It feels a bit like a home away from home. That’s probably the idea that the interior designers of the café were set to embody, which they have nailed and it has a novelty to Joan that’s never worn out. There’s no pressure to be social in a café either. If you choose to go to a café to read a book or people watch alone, it’s a place where no one expects you to chat if you don’t want to. You can be alone and with people at the same time. For an introvert, it’s a dream. For a nosey person, it’s even better. 

There’s one seat that Joan has claimed as her own. Every day, at 4pm after work has ended, she will come to the Whistler Café on Armhan Street and sit by the window in the corner. It’s the optimal comfort, as it has two big, red, worn out, grandad style armchairs that are crushed velvet and one small round coffee table, perfect for one big cappuccino and an almond croissant. It’s her slice of the good life. It’s the type of thing that makes you feel sparkly inside and at peace with the world. Being in that spot, at that time of day is what really makes Joan realise how much she enjoys her own company. You don’t need someone to enjoy this kind of thing with really, nothing about being quiet and solitary is a two player affair. 
That’s how she views her whole life. At 27, she hasn’t done a lot. Nor does she mind that fact. She has a comfortable job at the local library as a stock keeper, a beautiful studio flat right at the top of a building that is full of all of her favourite things and best of all, her terrace is full of lemons. Second to sitting in the café, her favourite place is sat on her terrace in the height of summer with a book and an icy lemonade. 
The quiet life, that’s what she likes. While all her friends are getting into serious relationships and big time jobs, Joan is content in her stable living and singularity. 

Stood in line, Joan looks around the café scoping out who is who. In the middle of the tables is what appears to be a ‘mummy group’, which is fairly unusual for the time of day - seeing the little baby's faces makes it a real treat, very cute. Over in the opposite corner to Joan's spot is Arnold. Arnold is just as regular to the Whistler as herself, by far more solitary however. He’s a large man, quite old with a medium length, grey peppered beard. Although they’re in a rather urban area, his clothes give off the farmer vibe. He seems to always be disgruntled about something, that’s probably why he’s always on his own. Other people dot the café, a man in a late zoom meeting looking quite stressed and a woman who is clearly waiting for somebody as she glances at the door each time someone enters or leaves. 
Lastly, a small group of tweens who are getting used to a sense of freedom from their parents. How exciting it must be to be out without any mums or dads at this time Joan thought to herself. She wondered if any of them would fall as deeply for café life as her in the future. She ordered herself her usual, cappuccino and almond croissant, sat in her seat and let out a quiet relaxed sigh. 
As the afternoon turned to evening, people came and went. The café slowly became quieter and quieter until it was just Joan and the young baristas who had started their nightly shut down routine. 

Joan, knowing her cue to leave, got up and brushed off any potential flakey crumbs from her pin skirt. “Thanks again, Jordan. Thanks again, Simone” she said to the baristas as she walked with her things toward the exit. “Thanks, Joan! See you tomorrow as usual!” Jordan said in reply, both of them waving. She gave them a polite wave back and set on her way back home. The hot air from outside is always a shock from the air conditioning inside the café, but Joan naturally climatised to it once in the midst of her short journey. 
Inside, she kicked off her shoes. The temperature was quite uncomfortable inside her flat after a long, hot day with the windows shut. She pushed the industrial window panels open in the kitchen, exposing her terrace. A strong gush of lemon scented air rushed into the flat. It’s time of year her lemons begin to ripen and are ready to harvest. Once again, Joan let out another relaxed sigh. 

After her regular nightly routine of sorting whatever she wanted for dinner, watching whatever she wanted on telly and having a long, drawn out bubble bath all to herself, she settles down to sleep in her big bed all to herself. 
Each day for Joan is the same but it’s exactly right. No one to compromise with. No one to pick up after besides herself. Just a simple life and her lemons.
What else would anyone need? She regularly would think to herself. Life is good. 

[ShortStoryWriter]

Thought I’d share, to see what others thought… criticism welcome!

[Bex5490]

Hey - not much of an expert but I liked how detailed the description of the cafe was. I felt like I got to know Joan really well too!

My only criticism would be the tense. At first Joan ‘looks around’ (present) but later she ‘got up and brushed’ her skirt (past). I would just change this to make it more consistent. ❤️