Chapter 1
A Cliché Beginning

They say all cliche stories begin with an alarm clock ringing in the morning... well, you'll get the chance to judge it by yourselves, because this romance, my romantic story begins just like that...

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The classic pink and bright hippyish-flowered alarm clock rang with restlessness for the third time when I finally got up. Eyes half closed, darkness never was an ally to me and my inexistent ability to find the light switch,  a nuisance specially in winter when the sun came lazier than me. I let escape a hoarse moan before hopping on one leg with outstanding coordination, just to bump my knee against the bed's post and my little toe hit one the corner's leg. Still alive and in one piece I made it to the bathroom... and so the day started for me.

A pencil black skirt did it so well to conceal the bruise on my knee, and matched perfectly the pin striped suit jacket and charcoal gray pointy stilettos I wore as I sashayed out the condominium onto the sidewalk, a bit lilting, yet beaming a triumphant smile. A cab waited for me right in front of the building and I was ready to take over the world on my first day at the job.

Working for the tourism company was a dream came true as it was moving to an apartment by the sea at El Condado, the ritziest place to live in the Capital City. As we drove down the avenue I saw a lovely couple, both of them tourists, jogging along the sidewalk. Promising myself I'd began exercising the next morning, a promise I've been doing every day since I've moved here, I sighed.

It felt so different taking the Ashford Avenue that morning. Not only because I was fascinated by the elegant display of Christmas ornaments on the fancy boutiques' crystal panes, or the luxurious hotels exquisitely decorated with garlands and wraths, hence as a permanent resident of San Juan and not a visitor anymore, all these didn't look the same to me. All in all, and now from another perspective, a new and refreshing one, the Holidays brought more than the usual nostalgic feeling, but also an air of change. Not only it was my dwelling, it would become both my play-ground, my dancing muse, my whole universe... a tiny universe to get inspired, this islet attached to another and greater islet, and that my job consisted in: revealing my small world to a bigger world beyond seas, and to make people from other countries to fall in love with this my beloved birth land.

The cab stopped at the Norzagaray Street and Calle del Morro's corner, a few steps from the Puerto Rico Institute of Culture, my new work place. Candidly, the golden sun rose above the horizon's turquoise line. In the distance, a solitary sailboat navigated to disappear behind the ancient city walls. I smiled to myself, still finding hard to believe I've got my dream job as the chief graphic designer of the government's tourism board.

It breezed gently, bringing to me the ocean's scent, but also the rich aroma of recently brewed coffee. "Coffee", I whispered to myself, spellbind by the mouth-watering smell. There, a few steps from the historic Institute's front door, a young man attended a picturesque street kiosk attached to a bicycle while serving a lady a steaming cup of the brew. Curiously, it's been the first time I've seen the vendor, who grew in handsomeness in the way I approached.

"Good morning", his perfectly aligned white teeth showed as he greeted me in the most compelling voice.

"Hi. Good morning sir..."

"Please, call me Marcos", he interrupted me, pointing to the embroidered name tag on his red polo shirt. The coffee machine whistled, a beam of steam rising up.

"Okey, Marcos, can you prepare me a cappuccino?"

"Right away ma'am... sugar?"

"What?" I stuttered, staring fixedly at his biceps while he operated the expresso machine. "Oh, yes, I'm sorry. Three spoons, brown sugar, please." My cheeks flushed. He saw me. Damned!

"Whipped cream? Cinnamon?" He smiled all the way, his hands moving at a so skillful barista impressive speed.

"Only cinnamon, please."

A few seconds after he'd served the brew in the styrofoam cup and shaped a cute flower on the foaming surface.

"A flower for the lady. Enjoy", a dimple formed in the corner of his mouth the same time he winked his honey colored eyes to me.

"Thank you Marcos... How much for the cappuccino?"

"Four dollars, ma'am."

I sipped a bit of it, while handing the money to Marcos. "Great coffee, great price. You've gained a regular client from today."

"I'm glad you liked it. Have a great day, ma'am." His happy eyes locking with mine. In a very modern gentleman's fashion, he tipped off his beige cap with the "Gustos Café" logo on it and I walked away into the building.

That afternoon, I was the last one to leave the graphic design department. As I walked down the hallway I stared at the Christmas ornamentation inside the Institute. Classy, red, green and golden garlands and wraths here and there. The huge artificial Christmas tree at the lobby reminded me that it was a good day to go shopping. I haven't put on a tree at home and certainly my office needed some sparks and glitter for the Seasons too.

Once outside, I couldn't help but looking for Marcos. Disappointed, I sighed. A latte would have been just fine on my way to the Mall. Thinking he was just another college student finding a way to get some extra money to pay for classes and books, it was a bit silly expecting to still find him there, five o'clock selling coffee. The young man had left a good impression on me, and his coffee too. Uber Cab arrived just in time and it would be shopping Monday night for me.

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I love Christmas 🎄, and the only Christmas I know doesn't have snow, it's all green, and reds and gold. It's about music, family, traditions, hope and love... and some coffee. I always write poems or shorts for the Holidays, this year is not an exception. I hope you do enjoy this ongoing romantic story featuring old San Juan, Puerto Rico.

Above in the images, Ashford Avenue at el Condado, one of the most expensive areas to live in the San Juan islet. Ritziest hotels are set in that area.

Also the Puerto Rican Institute of Culture Building, a Spanish colonial monument to culture and traditions.