I would be sitting on a small chair, looking out the window as a put my hair behind my ear. The aroma of coffee and cinnamon cakes would fill the air. You would be ordering at ,the fount desk, a dark coffee.
Mint stood before the counter, tapping his fingers against the counter as he hummed a song under his breath. He was glad that it was a friday evening, as it was his day off and he could finally breathe without the pressure of his job. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy it,” he thought, after politely placing his order and glancing around the cozy cafe, a lazy smile finding it’s way to his lips “it can just be… Troublesome at times.”