The Barista

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We met when I went to the café for the first time with a friend. He had green eyes, blonde hair, and skin the colour of cream, like that which presentably swamps mouths of coffee mugs- rich and delicious.

The sound of spoons ticking against cup rims, and jingling packets of sugar, and the strong smell of coffee and chocolate eroded the café today. The place was flooded on weekdays.

“What can I get for you?” he said from the other end of the counter.

I smiled. “Surprise me!” I replied like always.

I took a seat on my spot, wondering what I might get today. I am a very indecisive quibbler. I like my things cluster free, planned and routinely. Meeting Kai changed that about me, I guess. I loved new things now. Change and I had an intimate rapport. I stepped outside my comfort zone more than often, and it made me sprightly. I was different around him. Much cheerier, and comelier. I was an estate agent, he was a barista. Being in love with him was my own little adventure.

I smelled the mild essence of coffee beans from the tray as it approached me. The waiter served me my mug. I took a sip. It was dominated by chocolate, with an undertone of berries and rich caramel. This was scrumptious. Starting with humble sips, I finished my drink like a fish, in one big breathless gulp. I licked the thick sugary milk that rested at the bottom of the hearty cup, and just before I was about to place it back, I heard something clinck inside. I peeped in. Silver stuck between my eyes, a diamond ring rested almost happily at the bottom.

My eyes widened, and something at the bottom of my stomach sunk. My eyes rummaged the counter, and there he stood, docile and handsome like always, smiling at me with love.

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