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The bell on the door-frame chimed softly as she walked into Coffee & Comfort Cafe, the wind behind her closing the door quickly. It was warm inside, much warmer than out. She shed her jacket, placing it on her arm before stamping her feet on the small ‘Welcome’ carpet, freeing her boots of snow.
As always, the room smelled of fresh pastries, coffee beans, and a hint of the cafe’s Lavender Chamomile tea, a staple of the popular cafe chain throughout the country. The sound of coffee trickling into mugs and delicate ceramic dishes being picked up and set down or taken off a stack behind the counter hit her ears, followed by the quiet chatter of other customers and the peaceful background music. The lights were dim, providing a relaxing atmosphere in the shop, soothing any anxiety of customers who wander in for a warm cup of coffee. It was strangely nostalgic.
After a moment, she made her way up to the counter, “Afternoon Angelina.” She greeted the woman.
“Ah! Lovely to see you Camellia!” Angelina exclaimed tenderly, pushing her glasses up on her nose with wrinkled hands. “How’s everything been for you?”
“I’ve been better.” She responded. “Does it ever get easier?"
The woman could see the pang of sadness that flashed through Camellia’s eyes, before sighing. “No.” she admitted, before changing the subject. “I’ll assume you’ll be ordering a croissant and the Lavender Chamomile tea?” she said, pressing a few buttons on the register.
The corners of Camellia’s lips twitched upward in a small smile, thankful that the woman changed the subject as she swiped her card on the reader. “I should’ve guessed that you’d know. Thank you.”
“No problem dear. I’ve been running this place long enough to know,” she said, handing her a metal stand with the card at the top labelled ‘73’. “Just be careful though. You don’t want all of him to slip away.” She said with a knowing glance.
Camellia ignored the look, taking the stand with delicate fingers before making her way to a simple two-person table against the window. She placed the metal stand in the middle of the table, right next to the small brown vase that held the usual dark, crimson-red rose, and draped her coat across the back of her chair before taking a seat.
She turned her head to the right, her blue eyes flicking around the room and observing the others. A woman and her son, a mug of steaming coffee and a blueberry muffin on their table, a longing look on their faces as they stared at some picture on a phone. A young man staring at a small box in his hands, his face void of emotion and a cup of the popular Lavender Chamomile tea empty beside him. Camellia wondered what could be inside the box. A teenage girl and her friend laughing softly as they scrolled through something on their phones, one picking up a napkin to dab at the water on her cheeks.
“Here you go Ma’am.” a voice said, breaking her stare around the room, the sound of two plates being set down on the table in front of her.
Camellia looked up at the server, “Thank you.” She said to the young man.
He smiled at her before taking the metal stand with the number ‘73’ on it and walking away.
She glanced out the window, watching a few people walk by the cafe before taking a deep breath and picking up the mug. Taking a sip of the tea, she was instantly relaxed, the familiar warm feeling spreading throughout her body. She took another sip, setting down her cup as the room began to get hazy.
Camellia’s stomach churned with anticipation as her motions grew sluggish and a headache began to develop. No one around her noticed as she absentmindedly picked up the tea and drank again, the room around her darkening before shifting.
Camellia suddenly found herself on a beach, a wave of nostalgia hitting her almost as strongly as the ones she saw hitting the shore.
“Hey Cammi! C’mon in! The water’s great!” She heard a voice yell.
She looked out towards the voice, seeing the grinning face of her fiancé, Connor. “Yeah… uh… just hold on a minute!” She called back.
She remembered this beach. This was the beach where Connor had proposed to her months and months ago. She saw the same two palm trees that the pink and white hammock she rested on were tied between. She saw the same rainbow painted lifeguard tower in the distance, a young woman in a red bathing suit looking out at the water. She saw the same two little kids— siblings, she had assumed—arguing over some sand toys nearby as they built a sandcastle. The sun glistened and sparkled on the clear blue water.
Camellia watched as she set down a book and took off her sundress, revealing a blue swimsuit underneath before making her way over to Connor in the water. She giggled as Conner rushed out of the sea, his brown hair sticking to his forehead and water droplets rolling down his skin as he picked her up before making his way back in the ocean.
“Connor, don’t you dare!” She warned, a smile on her face nonetheless. Her fiancé just grinned impishly, before dropping her in the water, a short scream leaving her lips before the water silenced it.
Camellia resurfaced soon after, the sound of Connor’s laughter echoing in her ears. “I can’t believe you!” She cried out in faux frustration and annoyance, slapping his arm.
“S-sorry!” he laughed, struggling to regain composure, “I just couldn’t help myself!”
“I can’t believe you.” a smile on her face betraying her little act.
“You know you love me.” He teased, pulling her in close.
“Yeah, yeah I do.” Camellia admitted before closing her eyes and pressing her lips to his in a sweet kiss. God she couldn’t wait to marry this man.
She began to feel hazy again, but she was sure it was just her happiness and the kiss making her feel that way. Her fingers found Connor’s hand, gripping onto it tightly. Her headache came back, and she had the odd, yet familiar feeling that something had slipped away from her, the feeling of his hand disappearing.
When she opened her eyes from the kiss, the beach was gone, along with all the tea in her cup. The croissant lay untouched on the white ceramic plate. Camellia looked around the room, unsure of where she was. When she finally realized where she was, tears brewed in her eyes.
She wasn’t with Connor. She’d never be with Connor again. She longed for the times where she’d enjoy lazy mornings in bed with him or laugh about the stupidest things together or share loving kisses. She longed for the feeling of his hand in hers and the feeling of his lips and the joy he’d sparked in her life, the meaning it gave her.
Camellia stared at the crimson-red rose in front of her as her fingers went up to the ring on her necklace. She sat there for a while, deep in thought as customers came and drank their drink and ate their pastry before departing again, the conversation from before falling on deaf ears.
When she’d reached her house later that day, she glanced at the flowers on the front porch—pink camellias–before entering through the brown door and making her way to her room, a picture in the hallway catching her attention as she stopped.
It was a picture of her and the man before, Connor. The two stood in front of the iconic Eiffel Tower. It was night, the only light coming from the sparkling and glittering lights of the tower. A bright smile was on her face as the man kissed her cheek, their hands laced together. They seemed to be in their own world, not even realizing that their picture had been taken.
Camellia wondered what had made her stop at the picture. She had loads of old photos of her and Connor up on the wall. It took her another minute of thought to realize why it caught her attention.
She couldn’t ever recall a time that she’d been to Paris.