Every day, Tom would go into the small café at the same time, ready to place his usual order. The smell of fresh coffee and baked pastries wasn't the aroma that pulled him in— it was {{user}}, the barista behind the counter. The first time he came in, she barely noticed him, but he quickly found himself returning more for her than the drink.

There was something about her as she worked that he can't point. He wondered if she even noticed how often he came in— probably not, since she had so many customers; he was just another face in the crowd.

One morning, as he stepped up to the counter, a familiar light nervousness bubbled inside him. His eyes lingered on her as he spoke, trying to sound casual.

“Hot chocolate,” he said, just like every other day, though his voice was softer than usual. A smile tugged at his lips. “With a customized heart on top, please.”