He loves going to Cafes

The air was extremely cold that morning. Pedestrians shivered on footpaths, trying to keep their hands warm. There were no snow crusts or ice on the roofs, but the winds had swirled through buildings and windows.
He swung a glass door open, causing a faint ringing sound. Not a lot of people gathered in the cafe, but the waitresses still rushed around with some urgent, stressed expressions on their tight jawed faces.
A cashier looked up with the politest smile on her glittering lips. Her make-up is so unfashionable, thought the man. Oooh, those eyelashes are like tree branches, and the blush---"Yes?" Cashier-old-lady widened her eyes, trying to hide the visible bit of annoyance.---The blush is like jam on a piece of wheatbread---"Oh," the man murmured, absent minded. " A coffee, please." While the woman turned to his orders, the man dug into the pockets of his long leather coat, and waited.
Few seconds past, and the expression of the cashier never changed. She clung on a burning cup of Cappacino,(which was commented as strawberry gum nails) and placed it on the counter. " Twenty dollars!"she sang. The man nodded, lowered his head. He could still hear the doorbells ringing, faintly, annoyingly. he pulled out something that looked like a gun, and pointed it straight to the cashier's forehead. The hair, he cried silently. Dyed most disgustingly with soy sauce?
The cashier's smile froze. She flipped through her head, in the pages of " Successful Service Guidance", but nothing came out but bits of apologizing phrases. "Oh," she blurted out, and immediately felt stupid. THe stranger didn't move. he was such a professional, too professional for the threatening and killing. He whispered," Follow my instructions and no harm will be done to you." The voice was so calm, it could be recognised in tenderness. " Back slowly and open the cashier machine." Why, why is her neck so pale? She isn't a clown. The man was nearly tired of this. He hardly even slept last week. Bored and exhausted, he watched the woman open her machine. Suddenly, the melody of" Mary had a little lamb" struck his head, so awkward that he felt embarrassed, but couldn't get rid of it. He then recognised the familiar sound of "click", which marks the ending part of his routine. The cashier looked up frightened, at the same time puzzled. Should she take all the money out? " Hand me two ten dollar bills," The robber said coldly, without any expressions on his face. Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb...he blinked, twice.
The trembling hands of the woman gave im two ten dollar bills, as if it was only a change. ( Awful slippery hand cream, they were remarked) " Is this over?" she whispered, remembering every part of the robbing movies she had seen. But why such a small amount?
The silent robber nodded in reply. He smoothed the money in his hands, like a mother smoothing her child. After deciding those weren't fake, he smiled, most invisibly. Mary, Mary had a little lamb...
" Now, the coffee." He placed the bills on the counter, ignoring the cashier's astonished face. He then took the cup gently, which was still warm and pleasant. The melody never left his brain, wandering about at his temples. The robber felt relieved, and grinned most harmlessly. Now that's a good lipstick, a little voice said.
Leaving a startled and frozen woman behind, he walked out the Cafe, and missed the ringing bells. The door closed silently, and he was in cold air again. The wind cut his face, but the cup of Cappacino still warmed his hands. The man walked a bit faster, with the beautiful melody ringing louder and louder.
He started to hum.