The Café Already Knows the Story

I told the waiter Roberto at my local café that I’m using the place as a location for the script I'm writing, Café Eterno.

“What’s it about?” he asked.

I said it’s the central gathering point for a group of love stories — people yearning for love, falling in love, staying in love, falling out of love, circling back, missing each other by inches. The usual human chaos. Just with better coffee — and a touch of magical realism.

He didn't blink, just said, “I owned a restaurant fifteen years ago.” Then told me the current café owners were his employees back then. Shy. Reserved. All business. Until one night there was a party. A game called El Cárcel. Married men brought their single friends. To get out of jail, the single guys had to get married or pay a fine. They came prepared — dollar-store engagement rings and all.

That was the first night they got married.

Not legally.

Not forever.

But to each other.

In a game.

With witnesses and laughter and a little liquid courage.

I stood there, smiling, thinking: Of course this café already knows how this story works.

That’s the thing about places like this — especially in San Miguel. They aren’t just locations. They’re containers. They hold first dates, last arguments, flirtations, betrayals, reconciliations, and the stories people tell after they think the story is over.

I didn’t invent Café Eterno. I recognized it.

Eat | Write | Roam works the same way. You eat somewhere long enough. You write around it. You roam just enough to let life interrupt you. And eventually, the story introduces itself.

Sometimes it even sends a waiter over to explain why you chose the place in the first place.

Café in San Miguel de Allende inspiring the screenplay Café Eterno © Lorraine Flett