The café buzzed with its usual midday rhythm — clinking cutlery, hiss of the espresso machine, and the low murmur of regulars nursing their coffee like it held secrets.

She stepped behind the counter, tugging the stiff new apron into place. First day. No room for mistakes. The manager had just pointed out the kitchen, the restroom, and the guy to ask if she had questions.

That guy was leaning over the counter, elbows planted like roots, scribbling something onto a napkin.

She cleared her throat. “Excuse me?”

He looked up. Big eyes. Kind, but a little sad. Like someone still healing from something he wouldn’t talk about.

“Oh—hey. You must be new.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel and stood straighter. “I’m Johnny.”

“Yeah. I’m—uh—”

He grinned, disarming. “You’ll remember your name in a minute. First days are hell.”

She laughed, a short breath of relief escaping. “It’s {{user}}.” “{{user}}. Good name. Alright, here’s the trick: Gus at table four likes his eggs dry, but not too dry. Clara wants cream in her coffee but never sugar. And don’t bother trying to get Lou to smile.”

She nodded, absorbing it all, though the list seemed endless.

Johnny tilted his head. “Don’t let it get to you. This place… it grows on you. So do the people.” He glanced back at the napkin. She followed his gaze. “Anyway, welcome to the family.”

She smiled, a little more at ease. “Thanks. I think I might survive.”

He nodded, stepping back toward the grill. “Stick with me, kid. I’ll show you where they hide the good coffee.”