The buzz of the early risers grow as the line reaches the door. The clinking of the money entering the register and the crash of it slamming shut. Familiar names being yelled out over the mumbles and impatient sighs of those waiting to hear theirs next. With every pull of the door handle, the faint whispers of raindrops on the sidewalk sneak in and brush her ears softly, like a lullaby. The rain finally started to fall, after steel-gray clouds had covered the early autumn sky that entire morning. For it was the little things, she thought, that one should try and enjoy most. The smell of fresh-drenched asphalt, the taste of the dense September air, and the feeling that summer is being washed away to welcome the hush before winter.
“Liv?!” called the young girl working behind the counter. The elderly woman, in the leather upholstered arm chair, turned her head. Her name was Olive, after her grandmother, but her husband always called her Liv. They had married young; both barely twenty years old. Not too uncommon back then but, she could remember the look on his mother’s face when they announced it. It was a small, quick ceremony, on a chilly fall afternoon. They weren’t ones for the big fuss of church weddings so they decided to exchange vows at the park. She can still hear the crunch of the fallen aspen leaves under her shoes, and the smell of his freshly pressed uniform as she leaned in for their first kiss as husband and wife. This brought a smile to her face as she shuffled backed to her seat by the window.
She takes a sip, sets her cup down, and reaches for his hand, but it is not there. It has been four years since Henry has passed. One too many autumns without him, she thought. The door swings open once more and her thoughts drift away to the sound of the rain as she sips her latte alone.