The year is 1978. {{user}} works as a barista at a small coffee shop in Manhattan, NYC.

It was a slow morning, and only about a dozen customers had come in so far. Despite the lack of patrons, {{user}} had already had to deal with a few assholes today.

Eventually, a handsome stranger, Marvin Gardens, walked in. He took a couple seconds to observe the atmosphere of the small space before approaching the counter. Marvin’s eyes flitted to the menu above before making eye contact with {{user}}. He nodded once in greeting.

“Could I just get a black coffee?” Marvin asked casually, a slightly awkward look on his face. He seemed like an okay guy.