Welcome, loves, to the Pāosies Cafe Series, a new gathering for lovers of language and narrative. Our name, a playful blend of āPoetryā and āStories,ā perfectly captures the essence of what weāre about. In this series, my best friend and fellow writer will join me at our writersā cafe with our laptops, pens and paper, and a couple of iced mochas or chai lattes. Weāll be sharing our own workāfrom whispered verse to sprawling talesāand we invite you to listen, reflect, and get lost in the power of storytelling.
Pssss: we are about to conclude our series soon so we hope you have had a great time at the P’osies Cafe. We look forward to seeing your comments and for you to join us at the next series. Hmm. Where will we be next? Stay tuned!!!! We are so excited to bring some more treats your way.
But today, we have a new treat for you!!!! One full of humor and wisdom that you don’t want to miss!!!! So, come on in and grab your coffee or hot chocolate, and enjoy.
When The Walls Started Talking (c) 2025
Written by Saneatra Polk
She didnāt just leave the apartment. She left the heaviness that lived in her head. Some moves start in the body, but the real shift begins in the mind.
Sometimes we talk about healing like itās a straight path, a perfect glow-up, or an isolated quiet spiritual moment. But healingāreal healingāis none of those things. And in this season, God is teaching me what healing is not and why this journey too needs grace.
Seven Things Healing Is Not:
š«¶š¾ Healing is not linear:
Progress rarely looks like simple forward motion. Sometimes, it’s a zigzag, a series of setbacks, necessary pauses, or even chaotic. And that is perfectly okay. Healing isn’t an easy journey or a straight line; it loops back because God heals in layers.
š«¶š¾ Healing is not glamorous:
It’s just not pretty at times and it could leave you feeling like a hot mess. There are days when your glow dims, your soul feels heavy, your reflection is unrecognizable, and you wonder if youāre unraveling instead of recovering.
But sometimes your most āunglamorousā days are the most honest, most holy days, because youāre finally not pretending.
š«¶š¾ Healing is not comfortable:
Growth stretches you. Confronting truth humbles you. Letting go breaks you before it frees you. Healing will make you face versions of yourself you thought you left behind ā and God will use it all.
š«¶š¾ Healing is not always quiet:
Healing can be loudāfilled with the sound of tears, raw prayers, honest cries, and the truth you’ve swallowed for too long. Sometimes, it is the audible sound of a heart finally being unburdened after carrying too much for too many years.
You don’t have to be ashamed when your healing gets loud. But do allow God to comfort you and nurture you through the uncomfortable sounds of healing.
š«¶š¾ Healing is not a one-time thing:
It is a continuous journey. This is not because God is slow, but because we are complex, layered, and deeply loved. Healing involves revisiting old wounds with new wisdom, new strength, and the fresh understanding that inviting God in can bring.
š«¶š¾ Healing is not done in your own strength or wisdom:
You not only need a loving, strong support system, but you need Jesus also as the head and part of that support system for this tough journey.
Real healing requires His presence, His power, His truth, and His grace. You are simply not meant to navigate this process in your own strength.
Healing is a partnership with the Lord, not a solo mission.
š«¶š¾ Healing is not void of accountability:
True healing often requires taking responsibility for our choices, setting and enforcing boundaries, and being radically honest with ourselves and others.
Without accountability, genuine growth can stall or even go in circles.
And lastly, we may not be responsible for every pain or trauma, but we are ultimately responsible for our healing process.
Welcome, loves, to the Pāosies Cafe Series, a new gathering for lovers of language and narrative. Our name, a playful blend of āPoetryā and āStories,ā perfectly captures the essence of what weāre about. In this series, my best friend and fellow writer will join me at our writersā cafe with our laptops, pens and paper, and a couple of iced mochas or chai lattes. Weāll be sharing our own workāfrom whispered verse to sprawling talesāand we invite you to listen, reflect, and get lost in the power of storytelling.
Mr. Daniels and His Cup of Coffee Pt 4
(c) 2025
Written by Tannika Nikeya
[Flashback from pt 3: Just then zzzz, zap could be heard and then a pop.
Gregory jumped back from one of the major coffee machines, with his eyes wide and his head leaned back.]
Mr. Daniels was also watching. Gregory set a long cup under one of the openings of the machine and pressed a button. Out flowed brown liquid whose scent pleasingly filled the air of the little cafe.
As Lesliana left the cash register, Jacob, another daytime crew member, stepped up with a warm smile to ring up the next customer. It was a quick break for Lesliana. She often sat down at one of the little tables to check her emails and eat and drink a little something, a blueberry muffin and hot Chai tea, her usual in the morning. She scoured her emails and then checked her student portal anxiouslyĀ as she sipped her tea. She had submitted her research paper a couple of days ago to her psychology professor and was awaiting her grade.Ā
Kimberly just then rushed from the back with a cell phone on her ear propped up by her shoulder and a bunch of pastries in her hand all concealed in their individual wraps. She dropped them down on the small counter next to the pastries display. She would put a couple of them in the display to show their delectableness and store the rest for customers to purchase. When her hands were clear, she grabbed her cell phone to hold it, her face filled with concern.
We see Lesliana anxiously checking her student portal while trying to enjoy her break. What’s one time you had to wait for important news (like a grade, a job offer, or a diagnosis) while trying to carry on with your normal daily routine? How did you manage that stress?
1. Overthinking. Wait, should I even; no, let me continue. š¤š§š¤Æš„“ 2. Overlisting. A gang of to do’s and goals listed in my phone’s notepad or physical notebooks. šāļø 3. Overworking. And if not working, then planning. š 4. Overstimulating myself trying to multitask. Try working with students and trying to stay attentive in a virtual training at the same time. Yes that was me the other day. š 5. Overwatching the same old tv shows or letting them watch me. I always end up falling asleep. šŗ
I am good at these, but working to be bad at them.
Jackey is met with the growing distance from her high school sweetheart. As he is drawn deeper into street life, she faces the erosion of their hopes and dreams. One day, while waiting at the bus stop for him, a stranger appears. This encounter brings fear, confusion, and a challenge that forces Jackey to confront what love, loyalty, and her own survival truly mean.
To download a copy of Jackey and the Stranger at the Bus Stop, click on link below:
This urban fiction short story blends Romance, Mystery, and Urban storytelling as Jackey must decide if she can hold onto the familiar or embrace the unknown.
A Personal Note: This was one of the first stories I ever wrote for a college class, and sharing it now is a way of honoring my creative beginnings and embracing my evolution as a storyteller.
Welcome, loves, to the Pāosies Cafe Series, a new gathering for lovers of language and narrative. Our name, a playful blend of āPoetryā and āStories,ā perfectly captures the essence of what weāre about.Ā In this series, my best friend and fellow writer will join me at our writersā cafe with our laptops, pens and paper, and a couple of iced mochas or chai lattes. Weāll be sharing our own workāfrom whispered verse to sprawling talesāand we invite you to listen, reflect, and get lost in the power of storytelling.
Some paths donāt make sense until you look back and see the world you helped heal. Trust your calling. Trust your glow. The journey is worth it. šš
Welcome, loves, to the Pāosies Cafe Series, a new gathering for lovers of language and narrative. Our name, a playful blend of āPoetryā and āStories,ā perfectly captures the essence of what weāre about. In this series, my best friend and fellow writer will join me at our writersā cafe with our laptops, pens and paper, and a couple of iced mochas or chai lattes. Weāll be sharing our own workāfrom whispered verse to sprawling talesāand we invite you to listen, reflect, and get lost in the power of storytelling.
Today at the P’osies Cafe we have Part 3 of Mr. Daniels and His Cup, written by me, Tannika Nikeya.
In today’s story we have humility, hope, humor⦠and a coffee machine about to snap. So sit back and enjoy.
Mr. Daniels watched the staff settle back into their rhythm. His coffee, from which he had just taken a tiny sip, sent up a faint, comforting steam.
He noted Kimberly wiping down the counter with long, firm strokes. She was such a pleasant young lady who embodied the virtue he just told the man in the expensive blue suit to possess. She served more than just coffee; she served humility and patience that accompanied her smile. She doesn’t know her power yet, but it is immense, he thought.
Next was Lesliana, shy and timid, back at the register, her big smile reappearing as she thanked a customer. Lesliana worked to help pay for her college classes. It wasn’t easy to juggle her studies and a job but she needed the money for school. This was her seventh year at a four-year university, but this was her last year. My last year of college she would tell Mr. Daniels. Many of them mistake velocity for progress, Mr. Daniels mused, but patience and trusting God’s timing is a virtue. She carries hope, a quiet fire that needs only gentle tending.
And Gregory, who had a rough childhood in foster care, was already making the next customer laugh. He thought his job was only making the latest latte or frappuccino. It was not. His task is the balancing of sorrow and bringing joy to customers, Mr. Daniels thought as he observed him. For Gregory, laughter was a mechanism he used to aid himself in difficult times. And now the laughter he coaxes out is a necessary pressure release for the souls gathered there.
Mr. Daniels folded back his newspaper and set it on the table next to his cup of coffee. He often poured his attention into the stories of the daytime crew more than he read the newspaper.
Kimberly would often talk about her parents. Her dad was gravely ill. As often as she smiled, no one knew just how worried she was about her dad who had lost so much weight and could barely walk now, and her mom who looked after him. After work, Kimberly would stop by to check on her dad and her mom. This Saturday, she looked forward to sitting in with her dad while her mom got a 60-minute massage courtesy of Kimberly. But at this moment, worry lay right behind her smile because her mom reported her dad hasn’t been eating much.
She had prayed with her mom after her mom gave her the news, trying to chuck fear aside and nurture hope for a miracle.
Mr. Daniels knew about her dad as he had listened intently to every detail Kimberly shared about him. He had watched as her colleagues wrapped their arms around her and assured her it would be okay.
Kimberly threw herself into her work, making sure the cafe ran smoothly and delivered those same cozy vibes it gave each day. The sun settled in just as the crew did, alternating spots and illuminating the cafe through the big picture window. The crew picked up their pace as the store became more alive.
Just then zzzz, zap could be heard and then a pop.
Gregory jumped back from one of the major coffee machines, with his eyes wide and his head leaned back.
Hey Friends, welcome back to the Pāosies Cafe Series! We apologize that Pāosies Cafe was closed yesterday. Some things came up and we got a bit delayed. Nonetheless, we are open today and have a new treat here at the cafe: part five of A New Hope.
Enjoy!
She walked forward not because she had all the answers, but because she believed again. Her hope returnedāreminding us that new beginnings often start at our lowest point.
Check out today’s treat:
A New Hope Pt 5 (c) 2025
Written by Saneatra Polk
Please click here if you are unable to see the video here. It will take you directly to the video. I Keep getting error codes.
Hey Friends, welcome back to the P’osies Cafe Series! We apologize that P’osies Cafe was closed yesterday. Some things came up and we got a bit delayed. Nonetheless, we are open today and have a new treat here at the cafe: part two of Mr. Daniels andHisCup of Coffee.
Enjoy!
Mr. Daniels and His Cup of Coffee: The Lost Wallet (c) 2025
But Kimberly didnāt think he was rich at all. She had watched him on numerous occasions pull out coins and count them slowly, then hand them gently over to her or one of the baristas in exchange for his routine coffee.
And today was the same. Mr. Daniels limped in, gave his usual nod and proceeded to the line. When it was time for him to order his morning coffee or shall we say daily coffee. He would sip on this one cup his entire stay. Kimberly appeared from the back with a stack of cups in her hands. āHi, Mr. Daniels, good morning!ā “How are you today?”
“I’m well, Kimberly,” he slowly replied. “I hope all is well with you, today.”
āOh, Mr. Daniels, this morning has been rough.ā
“I’m so sorry to hear that Kimberly,” Mr. Daniels empathized. “But don’t worry, things will work out just fine,” he continued.
After Mr. Daniels received his coffee. He sat down at his usual table. He set his coffee down and picked up the newspaper that was placed on the table by Kimberly earlier anticipating his arrival. While the steam rose from his coffee, he opened the newspaper to read or browse. No one knew if he read the newspaper thoroughly but he sat there quietly. Not one word.
Mr. Daniels slowly looked up at the man. In fact, everyone turned their attention to him as he came in because he was loud, a little too loud for the morning time where people had only been up for one to a few hours.
“Where is my wallet?” he repeated. “I remember having it here at the counter.”
Kimberly walked over to the cash register and Lesliana. āSir, we can surely take a look around the store right quick. Are you sure this is the last spot you had your wallet?ā asked Kimberly.
“Come on, I know when I last had my wallet.” He retorted impatiently.
The man announced that he will call the cops.
“That will be fine sir but while you do that I will continue to check the floor. Can you retrace your movements?” She asked him.
Kimberly took a deep breath and told Lesliana to help the next customer who had come in after the man. Kimberly stepped from behind the counter and began to walk around the store looking at the floors and tables.
The man turned red and demanded his wallet, his voice high and grating. Kimberly grew worried. She frantically searched for the wallet of the man with the expensive blue suit, her eyes darting under tables.
Just then, Mr. Daniels slowly rose. Every joint seemed to creak a silent protest, but he moved with quiet, deliberate determination toward the belligerent man. Mr. Daniels didn’t speak until he was right beside him, and then, he gently extended an old hand holding a black leather wallet.
The man stopped mid-sentence, his jaw hanging. “Who the hell are you?” he snarled, his eyes narrowing at the old man’s patched coat and worn shoes.
“And how did you get my wallet?”
Mr. Daniels held his gazeāa gaze that held no judgment, only patience.
“You dropped it here on the floor as you left,” Mr. Daniels stated simply. Then, his voice softened, carrying just enough weight to cut through the man’s anger. “Whoever is patient has great understanding, but one who is quick-tempered displays foolishness. I understand that you lost your wallet, sir, but please be patient and kind.”
The man snatched the wallet back. He looked down at the soft-spoken old man, ready to unleash another loud, dismissive retort. But something in Mr. Daniel’s eyesāa depth that seemed out of place in a coffee shop, or perhaps the sheer, unruffled calmācaptivated his attention.
The man didn’t soften completely; the impatience was ingrained. Instead of arguing or shouting, the man merely gave a curt, tight nodāa visible effort at restraint.
“Right,” the buff man muttered, shoving the wallet into his inner suit pocket. He looked around the cafe, his face still flushed, then spun around and walked out the door, mumbling something under his breath.
“Thanks, Mr. Daniels,” Kimberly said with a relieved smile, watching the door swing shut.