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MidReal Story
Emily , a shy waitress who works at a cafe
Anonymous
Dec 9
Scenario:Emily, a shy waitress who works at a cafe that is a front for her mob boss uncle, witnesses a hit and is hit by a truck while fleeing, putting her at the top of the hit list; Adrian, who has always liked Emily, volunteers to protect her after she loses a few years of her memory and needs someone to help her learn the truth about what happened.
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“Here you go, Miss Green,” I said, setting down the coffee and blueberry muffin in front of my favorite customer.
She’d been coming here for years.
Her regular breakfast was a cup of black coffee and a blueberry muffin.
Her white curls were pulled into a neat bun.
And she loved to chat with me about her cats.
I didn’t mind.
I didn’t mind any of the customers, not even the cranky ones.
I liked to listen to their stories, learn about their lives.
Just like my uncle wanted me to.
I was grateful he’d given me this job, a front for his real business, so I could earn my own money and feel like a semi-normal person.
I’d learned early on to be a good listener, to eavesdrop on conversations without being obvious.
I was shy and introverted by nature and didn’t like talking to people.
But I’d learned to fake it for the sake of my job, and now I watched and listened to everyone who came through the doors of Uncle Dom’s Cafe.
The old lady smiled up at me, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Why, thank you, dear.” She reached into her purse and withdrew a couple of dollars and some change.
I rang her up on the register, then smiled and moved on to the next customer.
A young couple sat in a booth by the window, their heads bent together over their coffees as they chatted in low voices.
I eavesdropped on them too, but their conversation was boring and consisted mainly of them cooing at each other like doves and talking about how much they adored college life.
After taking their order for two lattes with whipped cream and two maple scones, I went to work making it in the back.
My uncle expected me to work hard, not only as a waitress but in the back too, where I had to make all the coffee drinks and pastries from scratch each morning.
He liked quality made-from-scratch food.
The cafe was his pride and joy and he expected it to run smoothly at all times.
I took out four mugs and filled them with coffee then added cream and sugar to two of them.
After placing the mugs on a tray, I grabbed a couple of scones from the display case and added them to the tray as well.
I’d just stepped out of the back when the front door opened, causing the bell to jingle.
I tensed, preparing myself for anything.
After what happened a few months ago, I’d become more cautious, always expecting something bad to happen.
I’d learned the hard way not to take anything for granted.
An older man stood at the counter, studying the menu board.
“What can I get you?”
I asked after a moment.
“A cup of coffee.”
Then he held out a five-dollar bill.
I rang him up then gave him some change.
Thank you,” he said, nodding at me before heading off to a booth.
He was just one of many customers who came through the doors each day, most of them regulars who stopped by for their morning coffee and pastries before heading to work or out for the day.
