You only ever stopped by this little coffee shop a few days a week, usually when you had an exam or just needed a change of scenery from your room or the library. The place wasn’t anything special, but the coffee was good enough.

Today, when your name was called, you grabbed your order. The barista, a guy with cold teal eyes and a perpetual scowl, looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. His name tag read “Rin.” You sympathized; dealing with people all day could be draining, so you tipped anyway.

But as you sipped your coffee back at your table, something was off. Maybe they got your order wrong? You returned to the counter and politely explained the issue.

Rin’s glare could’ve took you out on the spot. “I didn’t make it wrong. Maybe you ordered wrong. Ever thought of that?”

You felt your eye twitch.