The Monday Routine

Every Monday, like clockwork, Carlotta grabbed her boots, shrugged into her woolen jacket, and made her way to Ferdinand's, the tiny café nestled inconspicuously between a tacky souvenir shop and a dry cleaner's. It wasn't the most glamorous area, but there was something she liked about the familiarity and the faint smell of freshly baked chocolate croissants leaving lingering traces in the crisp morning air. Dodging the blur of commuters, Carlotta recalled the few hours of fitful sleep she'd finally conquered. The toll of a hangover buzzed at the back of her head, but the sweet allure of Ferdinand's caffeinated concoction promised to remedy that. Inside, Ferdinand, a rotund man with a graying beard and kind eyes, waved her in. "A usual?" he asked with a knowing grin in spite of the bustling line of patrons. Carlotta nodded, the routine unfolding like the start of a dance. Her order arrived in minutes, complete with the chocolate croissant she pretended not to indulge in the prior week. She grabbed her items and maneuvered towards the window nook, her unofficial spot. As she peeled the croissant from its wrapper, Carlotta fell into reminiscing on everything she forgot to savor on days rushing by. Her thoughts wandered back to her teenage years doing drama classes, wild poetry readings that made their way into her adulthood, and all the things she vowed to finish but never did. Her musings were disrupted by a gentle tap on her table. "Is this seat taken?" A young man, slightly awkward yet charmingly sincere in a mustard beanie asked. Carlotta gulped, wrestling with a small lie, but then opened up space. "No, it isn't. Here you go." "Thanks," said the man, plopping down with an oversized bagel and a greatness-sized smile. Casual chats between bites gave way to deeper conversation, and Carlotta learned more about strangers than she expected on a Monday. Her companion was Alex, newly unemployed with plans somewhere – he wasn't sure where yet, except that he had to climb a rocky hill to get there. Suddenly, laughter erupted from a nearby table where an excitable old woman shared her love for skydiving. Carlotta couldn't imagine this woman racing with gravity, but life was stranger than fiction. As the hours wore on, they'd exchanged numbers and wolves-death jokes when it was past time they both should've dashed their separate ways. Carlotta and Alex shared a secret smile and parted with warm goodbyes knowing that not all great mornings became great friendships. Outside, the rush was still electric as she juggled her bag and coat, unexpectedly turning her thoughts to a company flyer she'd seen earlier. Carlotta hadn’t sung since high school, but something about Alex's restlessness made her confident she'd try again – maybe a choir, even karaoke on risqué nights. As she headed up the street, Carlotta noticed Ferdinand watching her in her shoes, before he gestured to his wife, Tilly, hiding in the back with their mischievous little twins. The day waned, but the light of camaraderie still stretched across the town square, reflecting in teacups, conversation, and gentle memories of chocolate croissant drizzles. Monday's routine regained a touch more resonance in Carlotta's step; it was a typical day yet unexpectedly revelatory every bit. It was extraordinary precisely in its moments of complete ordinariness.