#arif

George: This isn't a date. I said I was going to Arif’s for donuts

Flo: Then why did you invite me?

George: I didn’t, I specifically said "don't come with me," then you said, "fuck you George I'll do whatever I want!

Arif: *smiles knowingly*

İnsanoğlu tarihin hiçbir döneminde manevi yaşamı gözardı ederek mutluluğa ulaşamamıştır.

✮ DIVINITY ✮

(I’ll post more things soon, including a Patron Saint chapter that’s in progress- it’s just that on top of everything else we just found out our landlord is selling our house and we have to move, which is…a lot! I’m big stressed! but I’m trying to write!)

———

The bell over the door jangled merrily as it opened and a light breeze ruffled the “grand opening” banner hanging overhead. “Hello, welcome!” he called from behind the register.

A little girl zipped ahead of her family and made a beeline for the candy display. “Ooh, Daddy, look!” she chirped, gazing at the jars of lollipops and taffy.

Her father held the door open as he ushered his wife inside. “Just a second, Jessa,” he laughed. “Wait for us to catch up.”

“Oh, it’s lovely in here,” the wife said. She had a blue and white striped baby sling crossed over her chest and she absently patted her baby’s back as she looked around. “Imagine, just a few months ago this was a taxidermist’s shop. This is…this is a drastic improvement.”

“Fewer things staring at you from the window,” her husband agreed.

He grinned. “Glad to hear it,” he said. He held out his hand. “I’m Arif, nice to meet you.”

“Donald Lockwood,” the young man said, shaking his hand firmly. He was in his thirties, tall and thin, and a pair of silver glasses perched on his nose. “This is my wife, Celia, and our daughter-”

The little girl ran over to them. “Hello!” she said, holding onto the edge of the counter and raising herself up on her tiptoes to be seen. “I’m Jessica Lockwood, I’m six years old, my favorite color is pink. What’s your favorite color?”

Arif blinked. “Um…green, I suppose,” he said. “That’s not a question I’m asked often.” He grinned. “But I could have guessed your favorite color.”

Jessica beamed at him. She was dressed in a pink romper and a pink floral shirt, with pink socks and a pink ribbon tied in her dark hair. “I’m awfully fond of pink,” she said. “My bicycle is pink, I rode my bicycle all the way here.”

“We live a few blocks over on Portland Row,” Donald explained. “It was a nice evening and we thought we’d take a walk before curfew.” He ran his hand lightly over Jessica’s hair. “Especially since this one has been so patient waiting for us to take her out on her bike.”

“We’ve been busy because we have a baby now!” Jessica said. She ran over to her mother, who was wandering around the shop looking at the shelves. “Mummy?”

“What, my darling?”

“I want to show Mr. Arif our baby!”

Celia Lockwood laughed and walked over to the counter. She was shorter than her husband but still rather tall and willowy; her long dark hair was tied in a loose braid down her back and her dark brown eyes were identical to her daughter’s. “Sorry, I got a bit distracted,” she said. She drew the edge of the wrap back. “Here he is, although I’m afraid he’s fast asleep right now.”

“That’s Ani,” Jessica informed him.

“It’s Anthony, actually, but we didn’t factor in a six year old’s inability to pronounce that name properly when we made that decision,” Donald said with a proud smile.

“Well, hello, Anthony,” Arif said to the sleeping baby. “How old is he?”

“Three months,” Celia said proudly. She ran her fingertips lightly over the soft dusting of dark hair on the baby’s head. “It’s been a bit of an adjustment getting used to having two children in the house, but Jessica’s been an angel.”

Arif crossed his arms and leaned on the counter. “Oh, so you’ve been a very good big sister?” he asked Jessica. She nodded solemnly. “Well, very good big sisters deserve treats.”

He went over to the bakery caseline and took out a vanilla cupcake topped in pink strawberry frosting. Jessica’s eyes went owlishly round. “Oh!” she said. “Thank you!”

Donald picked her up and set her on his hip so she could see better. “That looks like it was made for you,” he laughed. He kissed her cheek, then wrapped his arm around Celia’s waist. “Here, you pick out something too, dearest.”

“Ooh, there’s too many options,” Celia said. “Everything looks so good. Do you make everything yourself, Arif?”

“My wife and I do, yes,” he said. “We’ve been trying to open a shop of our own for years.”

“Well, I have a feeling we’ll be giving you a lot of business,” Celia said.

She ended up choosing a slab of shortbread glazed with caramel and Donald picked a slice of German chocolate cake, and Arif packaged everything up as neatly as he could. “Mummy, what about the baby?” Jessica said. “He needs something too.”

“Not yet, darling, he’s still too little,” Celia said. “He needs to be a bit older.”

Arif rang them up for the cake and the shortbread, but he stopped Donald’s arguments before he could get started. “The cupcake is on me,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it.”

Nevertheless Arif caught Donald dropping several bills into the tip jar on the counter before he picked up the box, much more than the cost of the cupcake, but even if he hadn’t it was worth it to hear Jessica chattering happily to her parents about how excited she was. Through the window he could see her clambering onto her little pink bicycle; her parents followed behind her hand-in-hand, Donald holding the bakery box and Celia patting her sleeping son’s back.