Juliet didn’t like coffee, apart from cappuccino but that was 90% foam whenever she made herself the occassional cup. Blame the Italian genes. Whenever she happened upon a small coffee shop, however, her feet acted on their own accord and a few steps later she was breathing in the smell of warm, grinded coffee beans and cream. It was a smell like no other, which made her feel as far away from home as possible. The Capulets owned a pasta making business and their house often smelled like dough, rather than the strong scent of a brazilian blend.
She made the exception of ordering an espesso from the barista and scanned the room for a cozy place to sit and be absorbed into the reality of H.P. Lovecraft during her break from classes. Hence the american literature. It was a day for exceptions. So she made the rare effort to overhear a rather one-sided conversation between a girl and a not-so curteous boy.
After he left, Juliet decided it was a beautiful day to share some girl power and congratulate the girl for handling the situation. Maybe make a new friend. God knows there are never enough girlfriends to have. The outburst she was faced with made her take a few steps back, and tip the cardboard cup onto her white blouse. Maybe she shouldn’t have worn such a flashy bra.
Nevertheless, she made an effort to laugh it off. There were worse things to experience. “It’s okay. I think that was my bad karma.” Grabbing a handful of napkins, Juliet tried to fix the situation. “I don’t usually act so bratty but maybe another coffee? I have no change to buy another cup.”
Melinoe doesn’t think she’s ever been so embarrassed in her life. She felt awful for yelling into the other’s face and, now that she was noticing...much to her horror, had made the girl spill her coffee onto herself. In her anger and then sudden tip into apologies, she’d completely missed it. And it had all spilled onto her white shirt. White. What a nightmare color to get stains out of.
“Um...no, it’s fine, it’s not bratty at all. It’s the least I can do. I have a sweater in my bag if you want to borrow it to cover up,” she said. “Please take it, I insist. I have a bunch more at home anyway.” She held the sweater out to the girl.
“What’s your drink order, by the way? While you’re in the bathroom I can order it.” Melinoe’s eyes darted around the cafe then, making sure nobody was looking over. They seemed uninterested. Perhaps they had been watching but upon realizing the encounter wouldn’t devolve into a “cat fight,” they got disappointed and went back to their own business.
She considered herself fortunate for that. Most people would have gotten furious at her for yelling at them and making them ruin their clothing. Small miracles, she supposed. Miracles because it was a little difficult to thank the gods when you are a god.
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