Steve's Diary

September 24, 1937

Dear Diary,

Just another boring Friday morning... no plans for later, nowhere to be and no one to see.

Except Bucky, that is.

And he's always got good ideas when it comes to what to do. Hopefully today is no different.

—————

"This is it. This is the place," he announced as we arrived. We had taken the black Buick... it was left to him after his dad died.

"Caffè Reggio? What is it...?" I asked, observing the relatively new looking exterior.

"It's a cafe... duh," he playfully shoved my shoulder and laughed. "They got coffee for 10¢, I figured we could try it out... could be fun. And besides, Washington Square Park is right over there so we could always hang around there after."

"You really thought this through, didn't you?" I asked.

He smiled, "yea, I... I guess I did..." he murmured, realizing the amount of effort he had in fact put into this. "Alright," he finally said. "Let's head in, I'm in desperate need of some good coffee."

He tapped my shoulder and I followed him in.

It was a nice little place. Not too small and not too big, either. Light on the decorations and heavy on the tables and chairs. Most of the seats had been taken outside and almost half of the ones inside had been taken as well. Maybe they would have some really good coffee here after all.

We got in line (which was excruciatingly long by the way) and waited our turn to order. Not being a big coffee person myself, the menu seemed massive and almost completely incomprehensible (seeing how I ever really had the opportunity to have it every morning like some people did). I was trying to decide if hot cocoa would seem childish or if it's even really be good here seeing how it wasn't a 'hot chocolate' place and what not.

We got called up and Bucky ordered some fancy weird thingy ma bob that I can't even bring to comprehend or attempt to pronounce. I went with the hot chocolate to play it safe and I felt Bucky watch me and smile as I recited my order to the cashier.

The total was 17¢, which meant the rumor was true about the 10¢ coffee (and apparently 7¢ hot chocolate).

The cashier, a young man with the name Charlie on his tag, told us to wait at a table and they would bring it call out our number and bring out to us when it was done. He handed us a small paper with the number 83 on it... I guess that was our number.

Bucky went and found us a two person table inside the building against the wall and away from the massive, hot windows. He put his car keys, wallet and number card on the table before us and sat back in relaxation.

"So, Steve. Talk to me," he started.

"About?"

"Small talk, Steve. How's the weather? What've you been up to? What're you doing tomorrow? Like that. Something boring can get interesting real quick. It's just a conversation starter," he rambled on.

"Uh, okay... what're we doing later, then?" I asked.

"See? Simple. Also, I have no idea."