Coffee Republic

Avery was a creature of habit. From a very young age, her mind had been wired to follow structure and routine. Some would have found that kind of lifestyle dreary, but she was perfectly content with her predictable life.

Today was Sunday, and despite the blistering weather Avery was perched on her typical seat in the same café - the only decent café in Gotham, really. It was a cute little thing, tucked away in the corner of Ciceril Street and quite ambigous. Le Petit Café. No one here was French, so she wasn't quite sure why they had called it that, rather than The Small Cafe.

It sounded fancier, she supposed.

Resting her chin against her palm, she let her light brown eyes roam around the small shop, noting how deserted the place was. Not that she didn't expect it. Any sensible person would be outside right now, soaking up the warmth and light while it lasted. Bar one graying man skimming over a newspaper in the corner, she was the only one there.

"One caramel latte and a vanilla cheesecake?"

Avery jumped, nearly sending her camera and her phone crashing onto the ground. The voice was familiar, tinged with a (fake) French accent and slightly amused. Whether it was at her fright or at how she always ordered the same thing, she didn't know. Probably both.

"Oh, yes. Thanks Cynthia." She offered a wry smile, twining her hands together and resting them on the smooth table top.

"No problem, sweetie. Cake's on the house." Cythia winked, dark blue eyes flashing . "Happy Harvey Dent Day."

"Happy... Harvey Dent Day." The petite waitress was already gone, and her voice died down to a mumble at that realization.

Avery had completely forgotten that was today. She felt terrible; that man had done so much for Gotham, and she hadn't even remembered to celebrate it. It was a ceremony that had been going on for two years, ever since he had died in that warehouse explosion. Avery winced at the memory. That had been a tragic few weeks.

She dismissed the awful memory, shaking her head and instead staring out of the window with a pensive expression. The view wasn't all that spectacular; a dirty road, a few cyclists, and a dry cleaners. The most exciting thing was La Petit Café's curtains, which reminded her of Dorothy's dress from The Wizard of Oz.

"Here you go. That'll be two dollars fourty." Cynthia placed the coffee and cake down tentatively, before tucking some stray black hairs back into her tight bun.

Avery snapped out of her daze, fumbling in her black purse until she found her wallet. Her mind was elsewhere at that point, so rather than finding the appropriate change she just handed her five dollars and muttered; "Keep the change."

Cynthia smiled and wandered off, the clicking of her high heels and the murmuring of the television the only sounds heard.

Her phone began to ring then, as if desperate to shatter the peaceful quiet, vibrating and crying shrilly while she fished it out of her bag. It was a text message from her mother.

Where are you? You were supposed to meet us on Cleve. St ten minutes ago! You promised your brother that you would come to this parade, and if you disappoint him again-

Avery snapped the phone shut with a heaving sigh. Reading her mother's texts wasn't much different from her raving on right in her ear. Pushing back the chair with a groan of wood against wood, she hurried out of the door; leaving her latte and cheesecake abandoned on the quaint little table.

No matter how small, that was the first sign of her structure and routine crumbling.