The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled a local cafe to the brim this morning, attracting people — usually in a hurry to work or students, still lazily waking themselves up. Behind the counter stood a man in a neat, beige shirt and a brown apron, leaning his head on his hand. There were visibly sight dark circles under his eyes, but he didn't seem to give it much thought or care. Francis pressed a green button on a coffee machine and it spewed hot steam out, preparing the water for more drinks, as it always did. The man stared at it as he waited for other customers to approach the counter, knocking on the counter with a hand decorated in carefully painted black nails.

"Oh, come on..."

He muttered as he brushed a strand of his blond hair out of his face.