Every day around 4 pm this elderly couple would stop by and order a different cake or pastry or whatever else was on the shelf. They would sit at a table in the far left corner of the shop; away from all the noise. Sometimes the sun would shine through the big windows onto their spot, so he made sure the sun wasn’t in her eyes and was on him instead. It was like everyone else knew it was their spot because every time they would come by it was free. Every day they would do this. I noticed a little over four months ago how consistent their visits were.
He would always hold the door open for her, always pull her chair out for her, and when they were ready to order, he’d always come up to the counter with both their orders. I had also noticed that she had a different single flower with her every time they stopped by. Different colours depending on what day it was. A red one for Monday’s, yellow on Tuesday’s, orange on Wednesday’s, blue on Thursday’s, purple on Friday’s, pink on Saturdays, and on Sunday’s, she had a big bouquet of flowers. All the flowers from that past week.
The first time I had noticed they were here, it was a Tuesday evening, around 4:40 I’d say. It had been raining quite a lot so they were wearing gumboots and he was holding an umbrella for both of them. Of course, he opened the door and pulled her chair out for her. She smelt like flowers and sweet chocolates. He walked up to the counter with a big smile on his face. They got a small croissant, an apple turnover, and two small coffees. He told me apple turnovers were her favourite, so he was happy we had them today. When he arrived back to their table, she placed a small kiss on his cheek and said thank you, her sweet smile as big as the sun. This was their routine every single time.
Until one day he was alone. No big smiles. No apple turnovers. He just sat there. In their spot for what felt like days. Except it was a Sunday, so he still had his bouquet of flowers. It was 9 pm, which was closing time. I was the only one still there, so I went and sat with him. We both didn’t say anything for a while. We just sat in silence, with the exception of the quiet music playing from the cafe speakers and the occasional honk from cars outside.
“She was a very beautiful person.” I finally spoke. He looked at me with eyes like glass.
“Brave too,” He added. “She had been battling cancer for almost 4 years now”
We sat and talked for the next 2 hours. Him telling me stories about when they were teenagers. How they would sneak out and go watch the stars. About their wedding. I had learnt that his name was Alfred, and his wives, Daphne. They had been together for 68 years, married for 64 of those years.
“These are for you,” he said, grabbing the flowers that had just been sitting there. “I picked her favourite ones”
“Oh you really didn’t have to” I replied, taking the flowers from his hands. “Thank you” I stood up and hugged the man. He left shortly after telling me that he would still come to visit most days, despite his wife not being around. I put the brightly coloured flowers in a vase on the counter and left.
The next day he stopped by again, he sat in their usual spot, reading a book. Seeing how lonely he looked, I went over and talked to him for a bit.
“This was one of her favourite books. I remember we used to sit under this big oak tree in her childhood backyard and just read.” He told me.
Every time he stopped in, he would tell me something about her. Whether it was one of her favourite things, something special about her, or sometimes he would bring in photos of her. Whatever it was, I enjoyed his company and his many interesting stories.
Simile: She smelt like flowers and sweet chocolate.
Metaphor: He looked at me with eyes like glass.
Personification: Her smile as big as the sun.
Replacing words: Sometimes the sun would shine through the window, so he made sure it was on him and not her.
Sometimes the sun would shine through the big windows onto their spot, so he made sure the sun wasn't in her eyes and was on him instead.
Deleting words: on Sunday's, she has a big bouquet of flowers, all the flowers from the past week with her.
on Sunday’s, she had a big bouquet of flowers, all the flowers from that past week.
Inserting words: Whatever it was, I enjoyed his company and his many stories.
Whatever it was, I enjoyed his company and his many interesting stories.
The 5 senses:
SMELL: She smelt like flowers and sweet chocolates.
SEE: I put the brightly coloured flowers in a vase on the counter and left.
HEAR: We just sat in silence, with the exception of the quiet music playing from the cafe speakers and the occasional honk from cars outside.
Onomatopoeia: We just sat in silence, with the exception of the quiet music playing from the cafe speakers and the occasional honk from cars outside.
Alliteration: When he arrived back to their table, she placed a small kiss on his cheek and said thank you, her sweet smile as big as the sun.
Very short sentence: Until one day he was alone.
The W-Start Sentence: We sat and talked for the next 2 hours.
Semi-Colon: They would sit at a table in the far left corner of the shop; away from all the noise.
Simple sentence: He just sat there.
Red, white and blue: Whether it was one of her favourite things, something special about her, or sometimes he would bring in photos of her.
The ING start: Seeing how lonely he looked, I went over and talked to him for a bit.
Every day around 4 pm this elderly couple would stop by and order a different cake or pastry or whatever else was on the shelf.
They would sit at a table in the far left corner of the shop; away from all the noise.
Sometimes the sun would shine through the big windows onto their spot, so he made sure the sun wasn’t in her eyes and was on him instead.
It was like everyone else knew it was their spot because every time they would come by it was free.
Every day they would do this.
I noticed a little over four months ago how consistent their visits were.
He would always hold the door open for her, always pull her chair out for her, and when they were ready to order, he’d always come up to the counter with both their orders.
I had also noticed that she had a different single flower with her every time they stopped by.
Different colours depending on what day it was.
A red one for Monday’s, yellow on Tuesday’s, orange on Wednesday’s, blue on Thursday’s, purple on Friday’s, pink on Saturdays, and on Sunday’s, she had a big bouquet of all the flowers from the past week.
The first time I had noticed they were here, it was a Tuesday evening, around 4:40 I’d say.
It had been raining quite a lot so they were wearing gumboots and he was holding an umbrella for both of them.
Of course, he opened the door and pulled her chair out for her.
She smelt like flowers and sweet chocolates.
He walked up to the counter with a big smile on his face.
They got a small croissant, an apple turnover, and two small coffees.
He told me apple turnovers were her favourite, so he was happy we had them today.
When he arrived back to their table, she placed a small kiss on his cheek and said thank you, her sweet smile as big as the sun.
This was their routine every single time.
Until one day he was alone.
No big smiles.
No apple turnovers.
He just sat there.
In their spot for what felt like days.
Except it was a Sunday, so he still had his bouquet of flowers.
It was 9 pm, which was closing time.
I was the only one still there, so I went and sat with him.
We both didn’t say anything for a while.
We just sat in silence, with the exception of the quiet music playing from the cafe speakers and the occasional honk from cars outside.
“She was a very beautiful person.” I finally spoke.
He looked at me with eyes like glass.
“Brave too,” He added. “She had been battling cancer for almost 4 years now”
We sat and talked for the next 2 hours.
Him telling me stories about when they were teenagers.
How they would sneak out and go watch the stars.
About their wedding.
I had learnt that his name was Alfred, and his wives, Daphne.
They had been together for 68 years, married for 64 of those years.
“These are for you,” he said, grabbing the flowers that had just been sitting there.
“I picked her favourite ones”
“Oh you really didn’t have to” I replied, taking the flowers from his hands.
“Thank you.” I stood up and hugged the man.
He left shortly after telling me that he would still come to visit most days, despite his wife not being around.
I put the brightly coloured flowers in a vase on the counter and left.
The next day he stopped by again, he sat in their usual spot, reading a book.
Seeing how lonely he looked, I went over and talked to him for a bit.
“This was one of her favourite books.
I remember we used to sit under this big oak tree in her childhood backyard and just read.” He told me.
Every time he stopped in, he would tell me something about her.
Whether it was one of her favourite things, something special about her, or sometimes he would bring in photos of her.
Whatever it was, I enjoyed his company and his many interesting stories.
