Customers wander through our door. Some saw us in a newspaper, a magazine, a TV show, and they are drawn to the jewels I create for them to admire and see and smell and eat and perhaps contemplate. Maybe they sense a moment of pure imagination
in something I’ve made; I don’t know, I just try to create things that are beautiful and that make me happy.
A customer pushes open the door and sidles to the counter. I’m frothing his drinking chocolate even as he says (in a very Irish way) “I’ll try the milk chocolate today.”
A customer saunters through the door as he has every day since we first had a door to open. He apologizes that he won’t be in tomorrow; he’ll be in Denver. He’s calls to thank us when his cup of chocolate is particularly fine.
A customer walks through the door for the second time; she’s been in before, but we’ve only met today. We chat of chocolate and Paris and teary eyes. Today I see she’s written of chocolate and passion and some amount of rapture and her writing is beautiful and I think that teary eyes are occasionally appropriate.
A customer turns from the counter, a fragment of happiness in her hand or bag or belly. The door closes and for an infinitely brief moment I am satisfied.