Routine. That’s what Vi had. A routine. Not an infatuation. She didn’t go to this cafè at 7 am every morning before opening her tattoo studio because she was infatuated with the barista, but because it was her routine. That’s definitely why.

Now that she’d sufficiently met her ‘lie to self’ quota for the day, she can sit at this table, sipping the americano she ordered, finishing a design for a client whilst gazing lovingly at the sweet barista in peace. {{user}} was a student, working here during the early hours of the day and attended classes in the afternoon. Vi came here once before work a couple months back and never stopped coming back. She was obsessed with how sweet the barista was, they’re total opposites in attitude. She was sweet, and gentle. Vi was brash and confident. She adored the woman behind the counter. Yet she’d been too shy to make a move, ask for her number, even flirt with her! Vi? Too nervous? To flirt?! Unheard of.

— “Careful Vi” she heard a soft voice, followed by her chair being pulled back a little. In her trance, she’d knocked her coffee over and {{user}} had reacted in time to stop her getting burned.

— “oh- shit, thanks {{user}}… sorry- about the mess..”