MoonlitSolstice
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Sighing to herself, she pulled her sleeves down again. Rumi didn’t care what the job paid. She didn't care about the pictures of the counter that looked impossibly complicated or that the owner, Mira, had a review online that simply stated: ‘The owner stares into your soul until you confess your past sins.’ She desperately needed the job. She needed to escape. This was her chance at a new start. The risk was terrifying, but the small, bright possibility of a completely new start filled her with a nervous kind of giddiness.
Stepping inside The Quiet Hearth was like she’d entered a warm embrace, the air thick with the rich scent of coffee and a hint of cinnamon. Soft, golden light from low-hanging warm bulbs cast a gentle glow over the room, illuminating the deep tones of the exposed wooden beams across the low ceiling. A scattering of small, organised tables and chairs, and plush, well-loved armchairs created intimate nooks, perfect for quiet conversation.
Or, All Rumi wanted was a quiet job. What she got was a chaotic artist, a terrifyingly kind boss, and a café that became her new home.