NYAC | 3min Read
Published on May 6, 2026
Autumn’s Brews
Autumn’s Brews
Amie heard the jingle of a bell as the coffee shop door opened, and a woman with frizzy red
hair stepped inside.
“Welcome back, Jane! How was your day?” She reached for the purple cup to start brewing
her usual — a hot Americano.
The redhead groaned as she made her way to the counter, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Hey Amie. I… uh, I think I’m gonna quit.
”
Amie almost fumbled with the cup.
“Wait, what?”
She sighed.
any longer.
”
“I think I’m gonna quit my job. It’s just so stressful — I’m not sure if I can do this
“What happened?” Amie asked.
excited and passionate!”
“I mean, you clearly wanted the job, right? You were so
“I know, I was excited. But it’s not the way I thought it would be, you know… being an
assistant for the legendary Madame Joanne…
”
Amie pressed a button on the machine, watching the espresso stream in a thin ribbon, when
she noticed Jane stopped talking.
“Hey, go wild. You know I’m always listening.
”
Jane then immediately started rambling at an impossible, but rather comprehensive pace.
Somehow Amie could keep up.
“
… It’s more like I’m a glorified errand runner than an actual assistant, you know? I mean, I
thought I’d be able to talk to her, learn her oil painting techniques — but most of the time I can’t
even see when she’s painting because I’m too busy getting her a box of jelly donuts, or
changing her plans on her color-coded schedule, or arranging her next transport to who knows
where. My creative voice is practically screaming to get out because it feels like I haven’t used it
in decades —
”
“Pause,
” Amie said, as she stopped the stream with a press of a button, letting the last drop of
espresso fall. She poured some hot water into the cup, and then placed it on the counter. Jane
held the handle, blew at the steam, and took a careful sip.
“Thanks, Amie. I really needed this.
”
“That’s the magic of Autumn’s Brews.
” She tilted her head.
“You wanna quit?”
“I wish it were that easy,
” Jane said.
“But what am I gonna do after that?”
Amie hummed, thinking of possibilities. Jane was an amazing artist, with an amazing portfolio.
She could be a curator at the town’s art museum, do art commissions, or be a web comic artist.
There were options, but what would be the best?
That’s when she remembered — Jane already knew. She mentioned it briefly to her sometime
in mid-December, when both of them sat in a corner, cupping a hot chocolate.
She wanted to be a mural artist.
Painting on huge walls and transforming them into pieces of art — that was her dream.
But she never did that because of financial instablity. The money she would get from painting
murals couldn’t satisfy the crazy rate of New York apartments… but what if she could start
painting on the sidelines?
“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you paint the café walls?”
Jane raised her eyebrows.
“Think about it! People pay to sit here, they drink coffee, they stare at the walls anyway. Might
as well stare at your art.
”
She laughed, a bit incredulous.
“Woah. I mean, I could try, but what if it turns out awful?”
Amie grinned.
“Are you kidding? Even your ‘awful’ paintings could sell for millions. It’s gonna
be awesome! Picture this. Step one, paint the cafe. Step two, paint the town!”
Jane stared at the walls, picturing colors and shapes, building a vision that only she could
see. And she couldn’t lie — it looked amazing.
“You don’t have to quit your job. Just spill your art onto the streets, and everyone — even
Madame Joanne — will see you for the artist you are. What do you say?”
Jane took a deep breath, hands on her hips, admiring her vision.
“Heck yeah.”
