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Some days, Sana felt sad.
It didn’t happen often, but she was human - and even though her friends revered her as some sort of personification of the sun, there were days when she felt a little down, a little withdrawn and in need of some comfort.
So when Sana woke up and felt the looming weight of pressure on her mind, or finished a particularly gruelling lecture with that professor who felt the need to incessantly pick on anything and everything she contributed to conversation, she would take a deep lungful of air and begin to make her way to the little coffee shop at the edge of the campus.
The walk was short, only five minutes or so from her dormitory and a little over ten minutes from the lecture hall. Some days she’d have her ear buds in, music at full volume and drowning out the world around her until she was focusing on nothing but the rhythmic procession of her footsteps to the beat of whatever song decided to play. Other days she’d listen to the world around her, absorbing the conversations of college kids ambling slowly to their next lecture and the way the wind fritted playfully in the boughs of the trees. They would creak amicably in response, old and weathered to the world around them, and Sana would nod her head in blissful agreement.
The trees would keep her company all the way to the tucked away wooden door of her favourite little getaway, wishing her farewell with a swish of their branches and the rustle of their leaves. She’d take another breath before placing a hand on the worn, dated door and push. The bell would chime to alert her arrival, a shrill noise piercing the absent-minded cloud of thought she’d worked herself into and as annoying as it was - it was kind of exactly what she needed.
Feet forward. Left, right, left, right. Twelve steps to reach the counter and look up into the eyes of the usual barista who had better things to do than worry about a girl in a slump.
Except.
“Hi! What can I do for you today?”
A soft, high voice floated over the countertop before Sana had even finished dragging her feet there, causing her to look up prematurely into an entirely new face. She stills, not quite used to this routine being broken (and it was very much a routine at this point) and gaped a little - partly because she didn’t really know what to say, even though it was fairly obvious.
(Partly because said barista was smiling at her rather endearingly the entire time.)
“Do you need some time to think?” The cute barista leaned over the top, play-whispering even though there was no-one else in the shop to overhear them. Sana coughed to clear the tangled words in her throat and hoped that the girl would think the flush on her face was from the brisk walk she’d taken here.
“Ah no, that’s alright.” She shook her head good-naturedly, sending the girl the best attempt at a smile as she could muster at the moment.
At this point she’d usually state her regular order: hazelnut iced coffee with a healthy amount of cream, and sit pensively by the window and watch the world until the sun began to dip in the sky and her cup had long since emptied.
But instead, she finds herself blurting out “What would you recommend?” to the cute barista who still hasn’t stopped smiling.
Said smile disappears as neat eyebrows knit together in thought, nose scrunched ever so slightly as she hums absently.
Oh no, Sana thinks.
“I really like hot chocolate, actually. Is that alright?” She grins again and Sana feels something lift in her chest.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s more than fine, thank you. How much is that?”
“Oh don’t worry, it’s on the house.”
Sana’s eyes widen in surprise, an argument ready on the tip of her tongue.
“Are you allowed to do that?”
The girl hums again, a soft rumble in her throat and Sana is leaning forward without realising it.
“I don’t know.” She laughs. “Just don’t tell my boss, I guess.” She mimes zipping her mouth shut, and it’s dorky and a little lame but Sana chuckles all the same.
“Your secret is safe with me,” she pauses, glancing down to read the barista’s nametag only to see she didn’t have one on.
“Momo.” She supplied, easy grin settled easily on her face like it had been sculpted there.
“Momo.” She echoes with a soft grin. She likes the way her mouth wraps around the syllables, and the way they feel rolling off her tongue. She hopes the feeling in her tummy isn’t evident on her face because she can feel the corners of her lips tugging up against her will, and try as she might they carve a deep indent into her puffy cheeks.
She makes the mistake of making eye contact when she looks up and she has to look away, lest she drown in incandescent coffee kissed eyes.
She was never very good at swimming in the first place.
“Why don’t you go sit by the window, I’ll bring you your drink when I’m done.”
Sana nods at this, a little lost in her head when she realises something’s missing from this disjointed routine.
“Don’t you need my name? For the cup?”
There’s a mirthful glint in Momo’s eyes and the teasing tug of her lips sends Sana through a whirlwind of wild thoughts.
“Do I need to remember who you are in this veeeery busy coffee shop where I couldn’t possibly remember which drink you had ordered?” She drones sarcastically, gesturing to the very empty space around them and the distinct lack of other customers.
Sana wishes she could disappear inside her oversized hoodie but despite the taunting, the smile on Momo’s face remains light and playful and she gestures her head towards the window.
“It won’t be long, I swear. Save your name for next time, yeah?”
They hold eye contact for a heartbeat, maybe two, and Sana closes her eyes and nods in agreement.
“Yeah, okay.”
Momo sends her one last bright smile before she turns away to start fixing up her drink. Sana sits on the comfy little love chair tucked away in the corner of the shop, sinking into the well-worn fabric and letting the stress of the day ebb away in big, concentrated breaths. She closes her eyes, counts to ten. Does it again and listens to the sound of shoes scuffing against the floor as Momo moves behind the counter, the hissing of the machines as it churns out her drink and the soft pop of a styrofoam cup lid being secured in place before the squeaky counter door creaks open.
Soft footsteps make their way over to her and she hears the cup being placed on the windowsill. She opens her eyes then, tries not to forget how to breathe at the soft smile adorning the barista’s face. The smell of warm chocolate and something else fills her nose, and she nods her head in thanks.
“I hope you like it,” Momo begins, hand reaching back to scratch the back of her neck nervously, “I added a little something which I usually like when I’ve had a bad day.”
She paused, her hand halting its movements and her eyes popping wide open.
“Not that like, you’ve had a bad day or anything! I just, you just… I don’t know. You seem a little down?” She shuffles uncomfortably, shifting her weight from leg to leg and Sana fails to suppress a giggle.
“Thank you Momo.” she murmurs softly, sending the girl an actual genuine smile.
The blinding grin she gets in response feels warmer than any hot drink she’s ever had, but who knows? Maybe this hot chocolate would be different.
“Yeah so I gotta, do job things. And yeah uh, hope you enjoy?” Momo trailed off awkwardly, no trace of the teasing, confident barista from three minutes ago. The duality of woman was indeed remarkable, Sana mused as curious eyes trailed the fumbling employee all the way back to the counter. She finally tore her eyes away, deeming it slightly creepy and unnerving to watch a stranger while they work and she leaned over the arm of her chair to reach for the steaming cup on the windowsill.
Warmth unfurls through her fingers as they wrapped around the styrofoam, bringing it up to her lips and smelling the overwhelming scent of cinnamon emanating from the lid. A little something indeed, she thinks, and tilts the cup up to feel liquid magic smother her taste buds and run down her throat smoothly.
It’s good, overwhelmingly so, and the contentedness settling in her chest with every sip of her drink was solely to do with the little kick of cinnamon dancing on her tongue - not the fact that she kept catching another pair of eyes watching her from behind the counter in the reflection of the window. Said eyes would avert as soon as they’d meet, Momo returning to wiping down the tops with a renewed vigor that wasn’t really needed on the already pristine surface.
She rotates the cup in her gasp and notices black pen marks on the side. She frowns in confusion - she distinctly remembers the embarrassment from offering the barista her name but it disappears when she actually realises what she’s looking at. The awkwardness and shy glances make a lot more sense now, and something else moves to settle next to the feeling of contentedness in her chest.
A very, hastily drawn picture of what seemed to be Sana decorated the side of the cup, complete with oversized baggy hoodie and thick glasses framing her face. There was a messaged scrawled next to it, and Sana laughed.
To the pretty girl with no name,
sometimes a little spice is all you need ;)
She looks into the window to catch subdued eyes staring over at her again, but this time they don’t look away and it’s complimented by a sheepish smile.
Sometimes, breaking a routine might not be a bad thing. She walks out of the shop, hands burrowed deeply in her pockets with a bounce in her step and walks beneath the trees, listening to the leaves chattering excitedly. They seem to be telling her that hot chocolate sounds like a good idea even when she isn’t sad. She thinks of soft eyes and cinnamon spice and finds herself agreeing wholeheartedly.