Your Story

TITLE: The Village Square Brew

The chipped Formica of the table felt cool under my forearms. This place… it hadn’t changed a bit. Not really. Even with the shiny new developments creeping around the edges of the Village Square, this little coffee shop remained stubbornly, wonderfully the same. I swirled the lukewarm coffee, the scent a familiar comfort. It wasn’t the best coffee, certainly, but it was this coffee.

Just this morning, I’d been in a sterile boardroom, PowerPoints flashing, lawyers whispering, the fate of the Kincaid account hanging in the balance. Years I’d spent building towards this. And it had paid off. A handshake, a signed contract, a bonus that would finally let Mama upgrade her clinic… It all felt incredibly distant now.

I watched a young couple share a pastry, their laughter echoing softly. Reminded me of Aisha and me, back when this was the spot. Dates after struggling through university exams, celebrating small wins, just… being. Aisha always ordered a cappuccino with extra foam, and I’d steal a sip, pretending to dislike it while secretly savoring the sweetness.

She'd loved the way the light filtered through the fabric roof in the afternoons, making everything feel warm and golden. She’s gone now, of course. Years gone. But sitting here, the gentle hum of conversation, the scent of coffee and something vaguely floral from the potted plants… it felt like she was close.

This wasn’t just a coffee. It was a quiet moment to hold onto, to remember. A reminder of where I came from, what really mattered. A little piece of the village, still beating strong. I took another sip, a slow smile spreading across my face. Today, the coffee tasted like victory, and like home.