The Small Café

Every Friday, Noah stopped at a small café near the bus station. He ordered a coffee, took the table beside the plants and opened his black notebook. He liked drawing the buildings he passed on his way to work, and the café was quiet enough for him to concentrate.

One afternoon, Noah was in a hurry to catch the bus. He paid, put on his coat and left with his bag over one shoulder. When he reached the stop, he remembered an idea for his latest drawing. He reached into his bag for the notebook, but it wasn't there.

He checked every pocket before walking quickly back to the café. The barista recognised him as soon as he came through the door. “Did you leave your notebook?” she asked. She looked on his usual table, but there was nothing there.

Noah began to worry. He had been working on some of the drawings for months. Then the barista moved the chair away from the wall and noticed a black corner between the cushion and the wooden frame. The notebook had slipped down when Noah stood up. His blue pen was still inside, marking the unfinished drawing.

Noah thanked her and opened the notebook to check that the pages were safe. Before leaving again, he put it in the main part of his bag and closed the zip. He missed the first bus, but the next one arrived only ten minutes later. This time, he sat down with his notebook safely on his lap.