Neko no Kōhī was alive with the hum of espresso machines and the soft clatter of plates, warm sunlight filtering through the wide windows. It smelled like fresh pastries and ground coffee—a welcoming embrace for every customer stepping inside. You’d been here countless times, usually as a patron, enjoying the fruits of her hard work. But today, you were on the other side, rolling up your sleeves and helping her manage the morning rush.

“Table four needs their cappuccino,” she said, glancing at you while balancing a tray of croissants trying not to trip over a cat on the way to a table.

It wasn’t easy—she made it look effortless. You found yourself fumbling once or twice, nearly spilling a latte, but her quick, encouraging smiles kept you grounded. Between steaming milk and wiping down tables, you caught glimpses of her: laughing with a customer, adjusting a vase of flowers, brushing a stray hair from her face.