One Cappuccino and One Café Latte

Damn! Damn! Damn! I repeatedly cursed as I opened the door of my café—Dream Catcher, and the sight in front of me didn't appeal, it appalled every fiber in me. My once marvelously furnished café house was filled with dozens of autumn leaves. Courtesy of the disaster goes to an opened window which I might've forgotten to close, the previous night since we closed late due to excessive rush. The staff had left when I locked, and now my one little mistake cost me my beautiful place.

'Argh! Can I hit myself for the blunder? Please.'

Being an owner of a café house situated in the closest locality of the main town of Lucknow wasn't easy. From morning to evening, the place flooded with customers. I'd be surprised if it wasn't since it was the only refreshment shop for a few miles, and every passer-by was sure to notice it. But I doubt they were going even to enter this horrible place just to see the dust and leaves all over the place, and there was no one to help me clean.

Generally, I'm one fussy owner girl, but on Sunday I do spare my staff from the terror of my mood swings. Now, please don't think that I give them heated looks throughout the day, but it's kind of my habit to remind them that my place needed absolute perfection. Speaking of which, when I look around the mess, I automatically covered my face with my palm. I feel like crying.

'How do I clean everything alone? Sweeping and Mopping the floor are the most annoying work. Oh, how I miss my girlfriends who usually do it for me since they know, I'll throw a fit if they ever asked me to do it. Well, who cares; when you've best friends slash partners like mine, then no need to worry but they were also having an off day today because last week I took an off on Sunday. It was my day today!

Damn you Autumn season. As much as I love the sound of the rustling leaves, that much I despise you now.'

Not having any other option, I grabbed the broom, covered my face with my silk scarf and begin to clean from the front desk which had less mess. One thing about me is consistent—even my crappy mood, I don't forget to sing, and something similar went on even now; though my voice seemed to be muffled, it was kind enough to calm my overstressed senses.

As I approached the entrance, I began to jump to remove the leaves from the top of the wind chime. It was hooked to a certain height and given that I was an art of short height, jumping is acceptable.

While engrossed in work, I hardly paid attention to the street or people who were crossing by; my only aim was to make my baby green again before any customer arrives.

The thought of customer might've knocked in my head only when the broom dropped from my hand and landed straight on some's head who'd entered the café.

'Omg! Did I just drop my super-broom on my customer's head? Can you swallow me earth, please?'

"Easy there, Tiger," the man said. I coyed. But wait! Did this handsome face, tall height, decent dressed, walking and talking Greek God called me Tiger?

"Do I look like a tiger to you?" I asked huffing. He dared to chuckle.

"Well, Ms. it's a phrase, we use for people to praise them for their certain skill. I used it for your speed because it looked like you're desperate to clean the place." He said, and I looked away embarrassed.

'Talk about being a fool in front of someone who's so well mannered. And my manners! Where are you? I just dropped a broom on his beautiful face, and then asked him a dumb question instead of apologizing. Screw me now! Disgrace on ownership.'

"I'm sorry. I'm not in the best of my mood." I apologized, saving myself from further awkwardness, pointing towards the miserable place, and he smiled.

'Oh! What do all heroines think of their heroes smiles in novels and movies?

Infectious! I think I found one here.'

"It's okay. I saw that's why I came to offer you help if you may allow." He accepted and answered. I gawked at him from top to bottom and vice-versa. 'A stranger offering help to clean a place is like a skeleton like me winning a WWE match against Nikki Bella.'

I furrowed my brows, and asked, "And why would you help me?"

"Well, I was bored from standing outside waiting for the mechanic to repair my car, and anyways, I think a cute girl like you shouldn't stress yourself alone." He said and smiled. I blinked my eyes several times to confirm my ears weren't working extra-fast today.

'Did he call me cute? Holy Jesus! What's wrong today? Me, who looks like a witch of the play Macbeth, is cute for this XYZ stranger. Okay, enough of his game, or whatever, I'm not allowing him to play with my head. Let's end it right away.'

"Look, Mr. you've been good to me, but if you're trying to play with my head, then you don't know me. So better drop the act and be upfront." I almost yelled, and he looked amused. 'Did I sing a lullaby?'

"Because I called you cute and offered to help, so you think I have an ulterior motive. WoW! Probably, the first girl I met who thinks out of this world." He laughed, and I feigned a sharp look, but practically, even I was laughing at my assumption internally, but I'm not telling that to him. No, never!

"Some people will appreciate, help, and care for you, and then there'll be some who won't. Some of us are less steamed, and some are more. I like to be less steamed." He said emphasizing his aspect of help that conveyed that he preferred to keep his ego aside and help everyone around.

"Like Cappuccino needs less steamed milk, and Café Latte needs more," I blurted whatever came in my mind after hearing the word steamed.

'Of course, put that word in front of a coffee shop owner, and she'll twist it into her own theory.'

"Exactly," he winked at me, and I shook my head handing him the broom. 'Okay, he asked for it, and I can use a hand.'

He swept the floor, and I mopped it, and within an hour the place was fit to be called perfect again. I made my special coffee for both of us, and alongside, had muffins. He left once his car was repaired, and I smiled reminiscing about the start of my day. From terrible, it turned out to be excellent.

The next day, out of habit, as I opened the online café' review section, my eyes popped out of my sockets, reading the review with a heading, "One cappuccino and One Café Latte," signed by the city's top critic. 'Talk about the coffee wonders, People.'