(Descriptive/Narrative)
By Janhavi B.
It was a lazy Tuesday with her parents back at home, and Julia at work in another city. To be honest, it must be annoying to work hard all day as a professor to unruly and distracted young adults, only to come back to an empty home. Which is why she often went to restaurants to have dinner, and that day was no different, so Julia walked up to a newly inaugurated restaurant by the corner of the street, which many people had recommended, even her favourite food critic.
As she stepped onto the white marble staircase, towards the pretty olive-coloured, French door, she felt a surge of comfort and warmth; but also, inferiority in front of the elegant doorway to a food lover’s haven. Lost in her thoughts, she almost crashed into the doorway, but a kind looking doorman with greying hair opened it for her. Inside, an aroma of freshly shredded mozzarella on a bowl of fettuccine cooked in bright red tomato sauce hugged Julia and a green velvet chair invited her to have a seat.
Obeying her lifeless master’s command, she placed herself on a table surrounded by people, although to tell you the truth, the entire place was packed with people. Their loud chatter and the synchronized footsteps of waiters put her at ease, for even the mess had some organization to it. Her stomach rumbled as she called the waiter and ordered a plate of Marinara sauce spaghetti and a cup of strong coffee, while soaking in the polite and soft manners of the white-shirted waiters.
While Ms. Julia soaks in their mannerisms, let me show you around the pretty place. The cream walls and grand Roman pillars, beautified the simplicity of the green velvet chairs and golden tables covered with white table cloths. The Roman style of interior was much appreciated by the young professor, though the lady seated behind her was not. Her old age and tiny structure would never have revealed her fiery temper and interest in Julia’s life. She would constantly turn back and stare at her for some time, then mumble her opinion about ‘independent, new-time women’ and turn away, only to scream at an innocent waiter and startle the hell out of the young boy.
Soon enough Julia’s food was there and it was enough to distract her from the old menace, she swiftly twisted the pasta and popped the piping hot delicacy into her mouth. The heat numbed her tongue and the tomato took over her mouth, although the basil peeked in every now and then. The startled soul of a waiter we met earlier carried her compliments to the chef, tripping in the process and making the young child on a table nearby giggle. Ms. Julia left the place feeling euphoric and smelling of creamy coffee with a hint of cheese on her palate laying around.
By, Janhavi B.
J's Musings 
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