Monday. Ask anyone they’ll say they hate it. It’s the day after a nice weekend, the first day of work after a very short break.

But not for me. I love Mondays. No, I’m not a workaholic, though I really enjoy what I do for a living.

It’s because of her, of course. If it’s not work then it has to be a woman. But she’s not just any woman. She’s the most beautiful woman on Earth. Her name is Aisha. Like that song.

Aïcha, Aïcha, écoute-moi!

Aïcha, Aïcha, t'enva pas!

Aïcha, Aïcha, regarde-moi!

Aïcha, Aïcha, réponds-moi!

Except her parents changed the c with an s and the ï with an i. Then again, it could be only my big imagination. Maybe they don’t even know that song.

I, however, hear it my head every time she walks into my bakery.

Aïcha, Aïcha, écoute-moi!

And she comes every weekday. My bakery is opened for a few hours on weekends too but I have a girl hired part-time to keep things running, and she told me Aisha doesn’t come on Saturdays or Sundays. If she did, I would have been there to wrap the cookies for her daughter.

Today, I came early just to bake her favorite cinnamon chocolate chips cookies, and I’m hoping Aisha will come in time to get them still warm.

“Good morning!”

Damn!

I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t even hear the bell above the door ring when the nice couple came in. The man hurries to take a seat, talking on the phone, while the lady walks to the counter. She’s wearing a big winter coat and her knitted blue hat matches the scarf and the gloves she has on. Must be a really cold day outside.

You see, I have an apartment right above the bakery so I don’t always go out.

“Good morning!” I smile, wiping my hands on my apron. Usually, I don’t have it on at opening time, but it’s still very early. “What can I get you?”

“Do still have some of those lovely raisin muffins, young man?”

“Of course, ma’am. Fresh out of the oven.” I pull a tray out of the glass case under the counter top where I keep the goods for display. “How many do you want?”

“Two, please.”

“You want them wrapped up?”

“No, no. My husband and I will eat them here.” The lady smiles and turns to look at her partner who’s sitting at one of the tables next to the window.

The man waves at me and I nod.

I pick up a tray then put the two muffins on it along with two napkins.

“Anything else, ma’am? Some hot chocolate, maybe?”

Since it’s a cold day outside a hot drink will do them good.

“You know, that’s a wonderful idea. We’ll have two cups of hot chocolate, too.”

“Okay. You go take a seat and I’ll bring them over.”

“Thank you very much, young man.”

As she walks over to her husband, tray with muffins in her hands, I turn and start the coffee machine to prepare the hot chocolate. This time I hear the bell ringing but I’m a little busy.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” I say to the new customer. I really need another working hand around here. Maybe I could hire another person for a few hours in the morning. It’s the busiest time of the day.

I leave the machine to do its job and I head for the main counter, wiping my hands mostly on reflex.

Oh. It’s her.

My heart jumps right up into my throat. I have to stop for a moment to swallow it back in my chest. Her winter coat looks more like a dress with a bell skirt. She has a hat and a scarf but all I can see are her beautiful rosy cheeks.

“Good morning, Andrew,” she cheerfully says when she spots me.

Lydia, her little girl, waves both her hands with a huge grin on her face.

“’Morning, Mrs. Callahan. ‘Morning, Ms. Lydia.” Of course I know her last name! She buys cookies daily.

“Cookies, Dlew! We want cookies!” Lydia jumps up and down.

She’s almost four years old. Both Aisha and I look at her and smile. It’s hot in my bakery, the ovens running almost permanently along with the radiators, so Lydia has removed her bonnet, letting her beautiful brown curls jump around when she moves. Her cheeks are also rosy and combined with her big blue eyes, her little chubby face looks cherubic.

“Lydia, ask nicely, please,” her mom admonishes pulling on her small hand.

The girl looks up between us turning serious for a moment. “Cookies, please, Dlew.” And the huge smile stretches her lips again.

“Coming right up,” I grin, grabbing a tray. “Oh, are you staying or do you want me to wrap them up?”

But before I get an answer, Lydia already runs off to pick a table. Aisha turns to me, sighs and pays. “Staying. Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome,” I reply as she picks up the cookies and walks slowly to join her daughter.

When it’s summer and she doesn’t have all these warm clothes on, I like to admire her shapely ass. I’m ashamed of it knowing that she’s married and that her husband will probably poke my eyes out if he finds out. He would probably kill me if he knew I’m a little infatuated with his wife. But I can’t help it.

People come and go. Most of them are in a hurry and just buy a cup of coffee then run to work. Some stop to have a cupcake with their morning tea. The tables are mostly full, I can’t complain.

However, when she’s here my gaze always goes back to her and her daughter. They’re impossible cute together. They make my day sunnier, happier.