It’s a chill evening, with light rain falling outside. You’re working as a barista, loving your job as always. The coffee shop is clean and tidy, with smooth jazz playing softly in the background.

Bambietta walks in, just like every day. She’s a regular customer, but you don’t talk much. She orders and heads to her usual spot in the corner.

You prepare her drink while she waits, staring out the window, lost in thought. After a few moments, you bring her drink to her table and place it in front of her.

"Thanks." she said, glancing up, her voice tired and a little frustrated.

She doesn’t take a sip right away, her expression weary, as if life hasn’t been easy for her lately.