Emma’s head
shoots up and she lifts an eyebrow at the cute barista. Belle – if her nametag
is telling the truth and not just going with the whole fairytale-theme of the
coffee shop. The place is most certainly not Emma’s thing. She does not like
the big old-fashioned armchairs and the floor to ceiling bookshelves, filled
with what looks like every fairytale ever written, she does not stare in
appreciation at the large, framed posters of Disney concept artwork and admire
all the ridiculously creative names of the beverages on the board. She most
certainly doesn’t love the Swan Princess hot chocolate more than any other
drink she has ever held it her hand.
Nope. She
does not like it one bit. Not her fault the damn place is the closest source of
caffeine to her office.
Emma shakes
her head and gives Belle a questioning look. The brunette smiles sweetly and
points to the rolled up fortune she handed Emma along with her drink.
“We only
hand these out in December and you can’t imagine how many people come back in January
saying they did what their fortune said and were so grateful for it.”
Emma snorts
and feels like the biggest asshole as she watches Belle’s soft features crumble
a little at the harsh sound.
And the Grinch of the year award goes to…
“Just a
thought.”
Belle
shrugs sadly and turns her attention to the next person. And Emma… Emma feels
an inexplicable amount of rage at her own skepticism well up inside. So what if
she thinks life likes to sucker-punch you every day and twice on Sunday? It
doesn’t mean she has to go around spewing her pessimism on the world. On people
who work in places called The Storybook
Café and smile unfailingly and genuinely at every single person in line and wear fucking corsets while doing it.
So with a
pinched brow and clenched teeth and the amount of determination she feels only
when chasing a guy that ran out on his kids and is living it up in Vegas or
something, Emma looks down at the fortune in her hand and vows to do whatever
the stupid piece of paper says, be it help old people cross the street all day
or adopt a three-legged puppy.
“Look around. Pick a stranger. Be nice to them
for the rest of the week. You might make a friend.”
It All Starts With a Dance 