Alright, imagine stumbling into Maple Bean just as the sun's doing its artsy thing—casting light all over the ratty tables like it's auditioning for some indie movie. The place isn't exactly poppin' off, but there's this low-key buzz, kinda like the café itself is still yawning and figuring out how to be awake.
Sage? She's basically part of the furniture at this point. Always beats the crowd, chalk smudges on her hands, grinning like she knows a secret. She's dragging out this new chalkboard, parking it by the tip jar (which, let's be real, collects more doodles and snarky notes than actual money):
Tip Question of the Day:
"If you could pick up any skill—no limits—what's it gonna be?"
Soon as the doors creak, the usual suspects start rolling in. Sage is already working the room with that megawatt grin. Elliot's one of the first—classic move, sketchbook under one arm, and this mystery box wrapped in brown paper like he's smuggling treasure from 1947.
He kinda tiptoes up to the counter. "Morning, Sage," he says, setting the box down like it might explode or start reciting poetry.
Sage gives him that one-eyebrow-up look. "Alright, what's this about?"
Elliot's cheeks go a shade or two pink. "Muffins. Baked 'em this morning. Figured you deserved a thank-you for, y'know, solving the muffin caper."
Cue Sage lighting up like someone just offered her eternal WiFi. "Elliot, you absolute hero. That's adorable."
She cracks open the box—bam, hit with the kind of smell that could make even the grumpiest Monday surrender. Blueberries, cinnamon, basically breakfast in fragrance form.
And then—wait—there's a little slip of paper hiding under the box.
Sage flips it open. Elliot's messy scrawl: "Step three: A peace offering from the muffin ninja. Let the game roll on! —E"
She just grins and slides the note into the tip jar, like it's her own little charm.
Honestly? Day's already crushing it. Hot muffins, silly questions, and that jittery, good-weird vibe that says something awesome's about to go down—maybe it's friendship, maybe just a straight-up sugar high. Either way, not a bad way to kick things off.
Chapter 3: New Beginnings and Shared Dreams (Part 2)
sun is barely up and the café's already doing its thing—smells like fresh coffee and those muffins that basically scream, "yeah, you need me." Seriously, even if you weren't planning to hang out, you'd probably stick around just for the vibes. Sage is behind the counter, all focused, arranging pastries like she's straight-up building a pastry pyramid. People can't stop peeking over. Kinda hard not to, honestly.
Elliot, of course, does his usual—claims the prime spot by the window. He's got his sketchbook out, flipping open to a new page like he's about to drop the next Mona Lisa or something. Pencil's moving a mile a minute, trying to catch the way the light hits the old wooden tables, those string lights overhead, and yeah, Sage in the background doing her pastry Picasso thing. Feels like a scene that belongs on a mood board, except it's actually happening.
Sage notices him doodling, flashes this quick grin, and boom—tiny butterflies. Can't blame her. Being someone's inspiration? Not exactly a bad way to kick off your shift.
Anyway, she finally spots the tip jar, and—wait a sec—not just change in there. There's this folded note. She yanks it out, reads:
"If I could learn any skill, I'd want to learn how to paint sunsets. They're fleeting but full of color and hope. —E"
Come on. That's next-level cute. So obviously, Sage grabs a scrap of paper and fires back:
"Sunsets are magical. I think you'd paint them beautifully. What about you—what new skill would you learn?"
Folds it up, tucks it in. Their own little secret note swap. Kind of thrilling, honestly.
Morning keeps rolling. More familiar faces drift in—chatter bouncing around, people laughing, pencils scratching away at napkins or whatever. You get the sense something cool's always just about to go down in this place. Feels electric. Sage is here for it.
Chapter 3: New Beginnings and Shared Dreams (Part 3)
Sunlight kinda slid in through those huge café windows, making everything look softer. Sage was wiping down the counter, brain half-on, thinking about that new question someone dropped in the tip jar. She was low-key dying to know what other folks would scribble—secret dreams? Embarrassing stories? The usual weird stuff?
Elliot, who'd been hunched over his sketchbook in the corner forever, finally closed it and shuffled up to the counter. He had this little folded note, like he was passing one in high school.
"I wrote a note," he mumbled, pushing it toward Sage.
She popped it open. Inside, in Elliot's swoopy handwriting:
"I'd love to learn how to bake bread. There's something so comforting about it, like creating warmth from simple ingredients.
—E"
Sage grinned, kind of tracing the paper like she was trying to memorize the feel of it.
"That's awesome," she told him. "Baking bread's like— I don't know, it's sharing a little chunk of your soul with people."
Elliot's whole face lit up, eyes doing that shiny, hopeful thing.
"Maybe you could teach me?" He sounded nervous-cute, if that makes sense.
Sage just laughed, not too loud. "Yeah, I'd love that."
Before they could get all sentimental and stuff, Lily burst in, cheeks all red from the cold outside.
"Hey, you two!" she called, waving this bundle of herbs. "Brought some fresh stuff from my garden. Figured the café could use a little pick-me-up."
Sage took the bundle, closed her eyes to breathe in that rosemary-thyme combo. Dang, it smelled good.
"Thanks, Lily. Seriously, this place just keeps getting cozier."
So, there they were. Just three people, making the Maple Bean a little warmer, a little weirder, weaving their stories together like it was the most natural thing in the world. Where else do dreams grow roots if not in places like this?
Chapter 3: New Beginnings and Shared Dreams (Part 4)
Sun's sliding down fast, drenching the café in that thick, golden honey—everything's glowing, kind of cinematic, you know? The place is a mess but in a good way—sticky tables, mugs everywhere, somebody's cappuccino foam art kind of melting into a sad blob, and everyone's talking like they're in some secret club. Whole vibe's contagious.
Sage, Elliot, and Lily really scored with that window seat. Prime real estate. They're clutching their mugs like lifelines, swapping stories, barely coming up for air. You'd think they were solving world peace or something.
Lily zones out mid-chat, just staring at traffic, all dreamy-eyed, then goes, "I dunno, every day you wake up, there's a shot at something good." She says it like it's just a throwaway thought, but honestly, the way the sun hits her face? She looks straight-up magical.
Elliot snorts, flashes that crooked grin. "Bro, sometimes it's just splitting a crap croissant or wandering by the river. Doesn't need to be fireworks to count."
Sage just lets out this breath, like she's been holding it for ages, and melts back into her chair. The tea's still warm, her friends are cackling about something dumb, and the whole room's soaked in that sweet late-evening light. She can't remember the last time she felt this… loose? Relaxed? Whatever, it's rare.
Once the sky slips into that deep blue—almost purple—Sage glances out at the Maplewood streetlights flickering on. Voice barely above a whisper, like she doesn't wanna mess up the magic, she goes, "Maybe this is where something amazing starts." And honestly? Kinda feels like it.
Chapter 3: New Beginnings and Shared Dreams (Part 5)
Finally, the café chilled out—about damn time. Sage went around wiping down tables, half-humming this random melody she couldn't even remember where she'd heard. Elliot, on the other hand, crammed his sketchbook into his bag, looking like he wasn't secretly smiling at absolutely nothing. And Lily, classic Lily, was busy wrestling with her collection of herbs in the corner, probably turning the place into some kind of botanical daydream.
Elliot, right before heading out, hit Sage with this weirdly sweet, crooked smile. "Hey, uh, thanks for today. I dunno, feels like we're all kinda tripping into something good here."
Sage shot back a grin—actually genuine this time, none of that polite customer service crap. "Yeah, for real. This isn't just a place to down coffee and bolt. Feels like...people actually find each other here, you get me?"
And of course, Lily jumps in, because she can't help herself: "Plus, this place? Perfect for kicking off new stories." Girl's got a tagline for every occasion.
So, the three of them drifted outside. Night hit them with a chill—just enough to keep you awake, not enough to piss you off. Stars were out in full, super dramatic, like they were auditioning for some cosmic talent show. Honestly, it felt like the universe was lowkey rooting for them.
Sage threw her head back, whispered, "Here's to a million more beginnings," like she was pitching a wish to the sky, and honestly, none of them needed to say anything else.
Chapter 3: New Beginnings and Shared Dreams (Bonus Part 6)
once everyone dipped, Sage just sorta claimed her spot by the window, totally zoned out, eyeballing the sky like it was some busted-up disco ball tossed on a faded jean blanket. The café? Barely even awake—just the soft hum of the fridge and chairs creaking like they were about to start snoring.
She starts poking around in the tip jar, probably just bored out of her mind, and fishes out this beat-up scrap of paper. Empty as my bank account after rent—seriously, it was screaming for some action. "Write on me, I dare you."
She smirked, all lopsided, snatched up a pen, and scrawled:
"Every day's another shot at a do-over. So here's to wild dreams, bumping into weirdos who somehow become your ride-or-die crew, and all those tiny blink-and-you-miss-it moments that somehow make the world taste less bland."
She folded it up, lobbed it back in the jar, and just chilled, low-key hoping whoever found it would get a little jolt of happy.
After a sec, she let out this goofy sigh, flicked off the lights, and slipped outside into the cold. The air? Honestly, felt like wrapping up in your comfiest hoodie—if your nose wasn't about to fall off from frostbite.
And tomorrow? Whatever the universe cooked up, she was game. Bring it.