She takes her time drinking her cup of heaven.
For her morning coffee, it is an absolute necessity that from her first sip to the last drop to fill every corner of her mouth the bitterness that she craves, before she walks out of her house. It is, according to her, "to keep me from slapping the first person that would talk to me first thing I go apart from my bed ". She wants every stranger to think that she could but the ones who actually know her could sworn she wouldn't do that or rather couldn't.
But everyone must hve known now that one has limits.
When asked to choose which one she prefers- between hot or cold coffee, she'll politely say both out of automatic response for that question she hears every single time, that is when she holds back an eyeroll. But she always, always, have to smile back.
She does not want anyone to know her preference of coffee, or anyone to just know a thing about her even though they have good intentions.
She can never say no to a cup of coffee. Some days she likes it black and super sweet, and for extra days, she adds creamer for extra flavor.
The local baristas who are familiar with her face think it's funny how she looks confused every time she is on the line. As if she thinking. Blankly staring in the entire menu for a minute or so but proceeds to pay for her same regular drink. The only difference is the cup size which, by the way, changes most of the time.
They even have small jokes going around in their team to draw smileys not her name whenever she orders because she always have this funny looking confused face every time she looks at the drawings while she pick the cup up. They just do not know she does not know to react on that.
She knew it all from the start. She knew they are observing her every move just as much as she observes them. She may actually like that those strangers look her way and catch their eyes looking at her. She is considerate that she just doesn't want to ruin the game they are playing.
One Saturday, her day off, she stands second in line, and as expected she looks like it was her first time in the place. As if she hasn't been here before, she places her gaze at the display menu.
Torn to her trance, she heard the old lady murmurs a thank you in front and turns to leave the counter. She looks at the tissue lying on the ground the lady just dropped and ignored contemplating to reach it or just call the lady's attention.
She could only sigh.
She can't think this early, not before coffee.
"Good afternoon, Eya". She was greeted by the smiling male barista whose name she always forgets. One second she caught herself asking out of all staff here, he has always been the one who attended her.
She tossed the thought away and greets him back while thinking how can he smile so big this early hour when right now she can barely smirk. Cannot pretend she is lovely this so early.
"Got a pick yet?", he piped in, turning her gaze away from his perfect white teeth and stare at his lashes and vice versa.
She wants to say to give her a second but, as usual, changes her mind for about millisecond.
"I'll take the usual please. Tall and hot thank you", she manages to respond.
She wishes she could return the energy he's giving her. Not today though.
It's a tough job she thinks being a barista, maybe not for him since it seems like smiling is his hobby.
She hasn't yet eaten anything and drove immediately here.
