Morning Routine At "Monso Rooster"

A blissful sun shone in the skies across the North of France. With its light, the sun gently brushed the cacophony of houses from various decades and even centuries. Due to their close arrangement, some of the streets were still hidden in the shadows, saving the moist coolness of the night. 

Pockets of people were marching towards their workplaces, each at their own pace. Some of them were yawning in a measured gate, while others passed them in haste with their eyes locked on pocket watches. Dreamworld was a cruel place. It plagued your mind with delightful visions, keeping you prisoned within your own head. Five more minutes could easily turn into hours, thus there would be nothing left but skip breakfast and strive forward to the workplace like a bull, although a more timid one, as punishment was a given in such circumstances. The deviance of those hustlers was the main reason for the gentle chaos that regularly occurred in the face of morning. People collided with each other, cars were abruptly stopping to let pedestrians cross the road, and all of it was accompanied by elegant curses spoken in French.

Among the many, a boy in cheap, dim clothes fell down, due to a slight thud from behind. He had been selling the newspapers, and now all of them were scattered all around the road. The boy gasped and crawled under the boots in an attempt to retrieve newspapers, his bread and milk. Naturally, the crowdedness of the street turned such a simple task into a challenge. Some people trampled newspapers, while others kicked the boy, whether by accident or out of ill will. The last nail to the boy's nerves were his juniors, other kids in an unsightly attire. They grabbed some papers and ran off, laughing at his cries and curses. 

This game of catch-up lasted for mere minutes, but by the time the boy returned, all the newspapers were already blown by the wind or buried in the filth of the streets. Not being able to bear this unfair chain of events, the boy sat down on a curb and quietly sobbed to his sleeve.

This scene was observed thoroughly by the employee of a café. He was watching over his struggles through a display window with a boisterous name, "Monso Rooster". The place was well known among common folks and eye-catching for coffee connoisseurs, thus it regularly got crowded by those seeking trends or just a good cup of café crème. At the moment, however, there were barely any clients present. Such was the reason for this employee to observe the poor fellow in the streets instead of doing his chores.

"That's really unfortunate, quite a tough job for a brat…" he whispered under his nose and leaned on the table to observe the streets even closer. Suddenly, someone tapped his shoulder and the man turned in a shiver. Behind him stood a young woman, his colleague or rather junior. She narrowed her thin brows and pointed her notebook at his face.

"Slacking off again, aren't you?"

The man crossed his arms and said, "Nonsense! I was merely observing the hardship of the lower class."

"Does not sound like work to me, Eugene. You could at least mop the floor if you are so bored."

Shortly after, Eugene turned away, ignoring her call. Considering the hierarchy of this place, it was expected, but the girl did not give up on him. Instead, she glared down at the man and scribbled something in her notebook. The sound of a pen sliding against the paper was well heard even under the quiet tunes of jazz, thus the man faced her once again.

"Goodness gracious, Jess, what is the point in washing the floor now, if I did it yesterday before closing?"

"Ugh! Who cares about the floors!? Just find another matter to not show your laziness to our clients, or at least return to the kitchen. What would new clients think if they saw an employee counting crows instead of working?"

After hearing Jessica's reasoning, whom Eugene called Jess out of habit, he took a peek to the left, where the rest of the tables were located. It was surprising for any newcomer to see such an exquisite Victorian interior, for a simple café, of all places. The more you visited "Monso Rooster", however, the more you got used to the decor. Eugene's breath was not taken upon seeing the tables made out of dark wood, refined custom-made chairs and even a big oil painting, which illustrated the battlefield of Napoleonic wars. No, the ones who caught his attention were people minding their own business. 

There were three clients in total, all scattered around each corner. An old gentleman with a monocle in his left eye and a thick cigar in his mouth was skimming through today's newspapers, which had been sold to him earlier by the boy from the streets. Another customer was a young man in a school uniform. His head was buried in the book authored by Sigmund Freud, "The Ego and the ID". Only the odour of half full cup of café crème kept him connected to the real world. And finally, the corner furthest away from the exit was occupied by an older woman. She was the only one raising her eyes at two bickering employees, although not out of irritation, but with an amused smile. She was a sweet old lady, who often left good tips for both of them.

Other than the woman, no one else paid the man any heed, thus once his lips curled up in a wry smile, Jessica immediately rolled her eyes. Eugene then casually said, "I do not see anyone complaining."

"Fine, I will tell Arnold about your lack of compliance… also about the display window which you broke a month ago,"

"Whoa-whoa, do not say it like I am the only one to blame! Wait!"

Eugene followed Jessie after she strolled towards the kitchen door. The man managed to catch up to her and block the pathway with his body. But before he could say anything, the girl answered his complaint.

"So what? I am a girl and you are an idiot. Arnold is more likely to believe that it was you alone who broke it."

Eugene narrowed his brows and crossed his arms without moving a millimetre. But his silent treatment was parried by her own tapping of foot, she was not in haste to leave anymore. Now they both were standing in the middle of the café, but since Eugene happened to be at the short end of a stick, he gave out first.

"Goddamn it, fine! I will mop the floor or whatever. I really wish Arnold could hear what you just said."

His admission was enough to make Jessica smile. Alas, she had no time to gloat, the place where the student sat was now occupied by only an empty cup of coffee. Apparently, he was done reading, but when the student passed the two employees, the entrance door opened. Eugene and Jessica turned around and both fell silent, meanwhile, the newcomer greeted the passing student with a strong British accent and held the door open until he left. Think of the devil - thought Eugene and marched towards the utility room, as if he was not arguing with Jessica just a second ago. The one who arrived was Arnold, their manager, their boss and their warden.