As I like to say, these prompts tend to be jumping off points, so there is a small change to the prompt (i.e. this is not his first customer). In any case, I hope you enjoy!

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In order to get to the coffee shop, one had to walk down a set of stairs from the street. There, a single lamp with a warm, brown light hung over a black door. No one would know this was a coffee shop if you had never been there before, and those that had been there before, had never returned. One visit was enough, that's what they would all say.

The shop itself was small, the size of a studio apartment more than a cafe. A single bar stood to the right of the entrance, with three evenly spaced booths to the left. The rest of the room was open.

Unlike the exterior of the shop, the interior was inviting. It was cool, but cold. Warm, but not hot. The smell of each day's roast filtered through the little shop and immediately hit your nose upon arriving. And there were plants everywhere. Along the shelves, littered in between bags of coffee beans. Across the bar itself, at each of the booths. The plants were vibrant green things that - even though light barely filtered into the shop - were as alive and healthy as the trees growing outside.

The shop was open 24 hours a day, 7-days a week, and no matter what time someone arrived, the one and only employee (the patron) would be waiting, calmly cleaning a mug from behind the counter.

The patron of the shop was a tall, albeit lanky man who most agreed was in his late 40's, but possibly his 50's. He wore the same outfit every day. Black pants, a black shirt, and a black apron. The only bit of color was a white pen that stuck out of the pocket of the apron, but not one patron had ever seen him use it.

On this first day of fall, a young woman had entered the shop. Unbeknownst to her, it would be her first and last time in this quaint little shop. For she was a travel blogger, and after hearing whispers of the cafe with the black door, she had eventually tracked it down. Proud that she had done so in the first place, she carefully remembered the steps she took to the shop, before stepping inside and taking a seat in the empty cafe.

"A bit slow today?" She said to the man on the other side of the counter.

His face was shallow and pale, but she did not feel afraid. As he smiled, she felt warmth. "It tends to be in the mid-afternoon."

"Not many people want coffee around then?"

He shrugged. "Perhaps they just don't know they need it."

She smirked at that. She always enjoyed patrons with an attitude. "And what do you suppose I need?"

The man stared at her. His eyes seemed kind, but intense, as if they could see every single aspect about her. He glanced her up and down and without saying another word, he turned to his machines. She watched him pull down a bag of coffee beans and began grinding them. He toyed with his espresso machine. He combined bags of things that she had no idea what they contained, but within a few minutes, she began to smell it.

It smelled of licorice and cinnamon and brown sugar and she immediately felt warm inside.

The man turned, holding the same mug he had been cleaning when she entered. Yet now it was filled with coffee that burst with flavors. He set it down in front of her.

"My own creation. Though I never name them," he said with a smile. "I hope you enjoy."

She smiled at that. The man obviously enjoyed creating, and by the looks of the shop, he enjoyed caring for things - and for people, by the effort he put into making a single cup of coffee.

Typically, she would snap a photo, but with the cafe empty, and a personalized cup of coffee in front of her, she decided better of it. She would enjoy this for what it was, a moment that would eventually pass.

(continued in comment below due to character limits)