The first time I saw him, he was standing behind the counter at this tiny coffee shop I'd started visiting regularly. It was one of those places with brick walls, soft jazz music playing in the background, and that comforting smell of freshly ground coffee beans. It felt like a little escape from the busy world outside, and I'd fallen in love with the atmosphere right away.
That day, I walked in, ready to order my usual, and there he was—a new barista, looking focused as he set up for the day. He was tall, with dark hair that fell a bit into his face as he leaned over the espresso machine, and he had this serious look, like he really cared about what he was doing. But what I noticed most was his voice. When he greeted a customer ahead of me, it was this deep, calm tone that instantly made me feel... I don't know, comfortable? Like he had a quiet confidence about him.
When it was my turn, I stepped up to the counter, feeling a bit nervous for some reason. "Hi, what can I get for you?" he asked, looking at me with a small, welcoming smile. I don't know why, but I felt my cheeks heat up as I stammered, "Uh, just a latte, please." He nodded, and I watched as he went through the motions, measuring the espresso, frothing the milk, all with this effortless grace.
When he handed me the cup, our fingers brushed for a split second. He must have noticed because he looked up, his eyes meeting mine with this soft, amused look, and said, "Hope you like it." Just four simple words, but I could feel my heart race as I walked away, wondering why I was suddenly feeling this way over a barista.
