Barista
José watched the scene unfolding in the coffee shop. That’s why he liked working there, to be a detached unbiased witness to customers’ private lives. He couldn’t allow himself to become involved; that would be violating their privacy. Keep the customers happy, his boss advised him, don’t interfere in their lives. Unless they’re violent, of course. Or disturbing another customer. Or causing damage to the shop. There were other “or’s” too, but those three, the two women and that guy who watched them, crossed none of those lines. He chuckled to himself at the outburst he just saw. The reserved one wouldn’t have reacted that way, would she? Whistling along with the background music, José turned to his mastery: coffee art. He was renown for his cat faces, but felt he needed to expand his art. After all, the woman who just went ballistic had no love for his cat lattes. José had defied her request to forgo the artwork. He was hurt by her comment. But then he wondered whether he had a role in triggering her outburst. For the next customer, he poured the rich milk foam into a multi-leaved rosetta pattern, topped with a tiny heart.
