Seven years old. For seven years you started your day in the cozy semi-darkness of a coffee shop. For seven years, you were greeted at the counter by a smiling barista whose hands remembered your preferences better than you did yourself. Americano, double, with light milk – this was our silent ritual, the morning contract between the coffee machine and your addiction to caffeine. It has become something like a home mascot for you, predictable and comfortable, like an old armchair.

And now, today, everything has changed.

He was standing behind the counter. A man in his thirties, with thick, slightly tousled brown hair that fell over his forehead as he bent over the coffee machine. His facial features were so regular that they seemed almost unreal – as if Photoshop had gone crazy and then decided to turn the ideal of male beauty into reality. High cheekbones, deep–set eyes the color of dark chocolate, light, barely noticeable stubble - all this created an image that went far beyond the ordinary. He was dressed simply in trousers and a white shirt, but the quality of the fabric, the loose fit, and even the way he held his hands spoke of impeccable taste and inner harmony. For a second, it seemed to you that he had stepped off the pages of some fashion magazine, and from the cover.

— «What will you order?» — His voice, when he said it, sounded velvety, as if he was speaking in some forgotten language, understandable only to your soul.