A dazzling but quaint cafe catches my eye while I'm strolling down the sidewalk nearby my work building.

Currently in search for a place to study and have a little lunch, I deem the small coffee shop potential-worthy enough to be my final destination.

As soon as I open the door, a bell above the doorframe is triggered and a resounding, high pitched, pring! hits my ears.

The richly flavored aromas wafting from the kitchen and the cozy and welcoming atmosphere I'm met with immediately sinks into my tense muscles as I find myself able to actually relax a little.

This place is the epitome of a writer's or a reader's dream cafe. Study areas of various themes, shapes, and sizes span across the store, a mini library in the back of the store catches my eye, piquing my interest.

I take my time making my way over to it, slowly walking past a row of beige booths on either side of me and letting my eyes wander over the intricately laid out decor displayed along the walls and ceilings.

It's a wonder I've never seen this place before. Or maybe this place opened only recently.

Either way, this store was cleverly constructed, the creators being considerate enough to add such a variety of study nooks and seating for people alike as every individual has their personal preference of educational study comfort.

Once I reach the library I thought was small, my mouth drops open at the surprisingly expansive size of it. Bookshelves line basically every wall in the room, the shelves reaching as high as the ceiling.

Chairs, couches, and tables are scattered around the room, a few inviting staircases leading up to a couple study nooks several feet above the ground.

The dim lights along the ceiling distributes a tranquil ambience inside the room, dousing it with a sense of ease that seems to hush the few people seated in here.

Choosing a quiet corner with a cozy nook carved out of the wall, with soft cushions covering the seat and a basic table—or maybe it could be considered a desk?—placed in front of it, I make my way towards it, admiring anything and everything I can.

I set my things down once I reach the little study nook and head over to the front counter to order myself a drink.

I don't think I'm ready to eat lunch quite yet, I admit to myself, not wanting to upset my still slowly settling stomach.

Scanning over the menu, I almost have a hard time choosing a drink, and I get so lost in deciding between a matcha frappe or a matcha tea, that I haven't even realized I'm next in line until a smooth, british male voice catches my attention.

My eyes dart away from the menu, and I'm suddenly aware that I'm at the front of the line, when, last time I checked, I was at the tail end of it, dawdling over ordering a small snack.

"Pardon me, Miss," the gentlemen in at the register informs me politely, his british accent smooth and soothing. "I believe you're next in line?"

My eyes meet a pair of warm grey irises with icy blue slivers sprinkled amongst the piercing grey flecks in them.

"Yes, of course," I rush to answer after having taken far too long staring at him. "Right, yes, I'm sorry, I was just...having a little trouble choosing what to order."

He nods in understanding, an amused smirk flashing across his lips. His eyes crinkle slightly at the edges and there are several dimples that carve deeply into his dusted pink cheeks the wider he smiles.

"Is something funny?" I ask, tilting my head in slight confusion.

"Not at all," he replies with a light shake of his head, struggling to hide his smile. "My apologies—what can I get for you today?" A splash of giddiness pools inside his cool grey-blue eyes, his expression reminding me of a curious puppy.

It's my turn to try to hide my smile now as I tell him, "Could I get a matcha frappe, please?"

"A matcha frappe, huh? Nobody orders that," he frowns with a light tilt of his head, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Interesting," I muse—although I'm everything but amused, at the moment. My social battery's already been entirely drained throughout the past several hours, I don't have time for a teasing interrogation.

"It's a very rare menu item, actually," he adds, a slight smirk still on his face. "It's quite sad, really. Although, I can't exactly blame them, I've never liked matcha myself, you see."

"Well isn't that fascinating," I apathetically sympathize, my tone of voice and my expression entirely deadpan. "So...my matcha frappe?"

"Are you quite sure that's your final decision, love?" He asks with a gaslighting lilt to his voice. But there's a teasing twinkle in his silvery blue eyes.

"Love"...why does that have to sound so perfect in his voice?

And stop it! What's wrong with you?! I scold inwardly at both my suddenly skipping heart and fluttering stomach.

"I am absolutely sure," I answer a little firmly, narrowing my eyes at him slightly in warning.

"I do have to ask, though—why a matcha frappe?"

"Because I like it," I answer as if it's the most obvious thing in the universe.

"And why is that?" He raises a brow at me.

"Must there be a specific reason?" I sigh inwardly, growing tired of all his completely unnecessary questions.

"Not necessarily 'must', but I'm sure there has to be a fundamental reason, and I'm simply curious to know what that is."

"Do you always interrogate your customers about their orders?" I narrow my eyes further at him, folding my arms in front of my chest in slight annoyance, which only makes his already mischievous grin widen in entertainment.

"Occasionally," he shrugs, the spark of amusement in his eyes matching the playful curl of his lips. I can't stop myself from noticing the dimples that seem to soften the edges of my growing irritation.

No! Ignore his adorable dimples and just get your stupid order!

"One. Matcha. Frappe. Please," I half grit out with a forced smile plastered on my face.

"Alright, if you insist," he sighs dramatically with a smirk and a teasing glance at me as he taps the screen in front of him to register my order.

After paying for my drink with a scowl on my face, I snatch the receipt from him and walk back over to where I put my things.

Sitting down, I pull out my computer, placing it on the table, before pulling out my notes.

This happens a lot. I go to my designated cafe/restaurant and busy myself so I don't think about it. That? It? I don't even know what to call it anymore.

I mean, obviously it's past trauma but even that doesn't seem to describe it in full detail. It doesn't capture the rushing well of emotions that washes over me whenever I let myself think about it.

Which is why I keep myself occupied. Keep my brain occupied.

Unfortunately, thoughts aren't the only memory triggers. It took me a little while to realize how much songs can be such overstimulating time capsules. They pull you away into the glowing, grassy fields of your past. Or the dark, endless depths of your trauma.

For me, it depends on the song. And I typically avoid those absorbing time capsules that suck you into the past. But sometimes I find myself willingly listening to a particular song I know will make my chest seize in sadness, and the ache to fill my gut, and the tears to accumulate.

I'm so lost in my thoughts, I'm completely unaware when the irritable cashier from the front counter approaches my table and places my drink down in front of me.

"One matcha frappe, as requested," he announces with a self-satisfied smile while leaning his arm on the table. Until he looks up and realizes I'm entirely oblivious to his presence.

He frowns, tilting his head as he studies my expression, before deciding to snap me back to the present—quite literally, with the snap of his fingers.

I rapidly blink a few times, trying to clear my head from all the nagging gloomy thoughts fogging my thought process.

Finally registering his presence, I startle slightly. "Oh, hi."

"Welcome back to reality," he replies with a small smirk, before gesturing to my delivered drink with a flourishing wave of his hand, seemingly quite proud of himself. "Your beverage, as you requested."

"Oh..." I slide the cup towards me, letting the steam waft over my face as I breathe in the familiar smell of one of my favorite drinks. "Thank you."

"You know, in all technicality...I'm required to reply with 'my pleasure'..." he admits, thinking to himself for a couple seconds. "But there is absolutely no way you will ever convince me to say that so...enjoy your drink!"

With a self-amused grin on his face and a quick wave as he turns to leave, he practically strolls back towards his station at the cash register behind the front counter, ready to help the next customer.

It's only when he's standing back at his place in front of the cash register and looks up—locking eyes with me and giving me a cheeky smirk that highlights his dimples—that I realize I've been staring at him.

Shooting him a quick scowl of annoyance in his direction—which only succeeds in him widening his smirk—I remove my gaze from him and get back to my computer and notes.

As annoyed as I am that he caught me staring—and likely will never let me forget it, should I decide to return back here for my next study session—I completely forget to sulk over past trauma and any possible future anxieties for the rest of my study time.

Author's note: just a little fun something i wrote a little while ago and thought i'd share it. im still deciding whether to continue it or not...

anyway, thank you so much to anyone who had the patience to read through my (cringey) writing! hope you have a great day/night! <33