Petit Paradis Blanc

The cafe stood in an inner courtyard, surrounded by a scenic verandah on all four sides. Looking at the place from outside, you’d only see a somewhat weathered residential building, and walk past without a second glance. But if you knew you had to make your way down a little further, turn into the alley next door, and walk in the small black side door, you’d find yourself in a rather charming cafe. It was called “Petit Paradis Blanc” (Little White Heaven), and you’d understand why from the moment you stepped in. Everything was white and everything was heaven. The steady columns that held up the surrounding verandah, the wrought iron tables and chairs, the place settings, the server’s uniforms, and even the tiles were all in blanc. The 7-feet tall tree that stood in the middle of the courtyard was full of white leaves that managed to hide most of its dark bark. The people, however, stood out. Everyone wore pleasing blues and greens and pinks in pastels. It was the unofficial dress code here. I once asked Mrs Rosa why everything was white. She told me it was so that people could feel calm, and she could see them shine as they found their inner peace. It all seemed very much like something out of a novel, to be honest.

Written for the Writing 101 Day Two Prompt: A Room with a View.


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