I perched on the solid wooden cupboards behind the counter as I watched the hustle and bustle of the bar before me. It was my first day back in work since I found out about Atticus and the hidden truth of the world around me, and it felt... odd. It had been one thing to hear the words spoken in the dying daylight of my flat, but it was something else entirely to think of them in the context of the world before me.

My eyes scanned the room as I sipped the hot black coffee nestled in my palms, its earthy aroma permeating the air. The bar was busy, as always, with pockets of people scattered across the assorted tables and chairs. The group at the back, tucked in the nook under the mezzanine, caught my eye as they sprawled across the battered chesterfield sofas. They'd been here most of the day, fuelling their political debates and playful banter with an endless supply of coffee and baked goods. They seemed harmless enough, but there was a voice in my head that wondered 'were they?'

As I watched them, I saw one of the guys help a nearby woman move her chair, while in contrast one of the girls giggled and whispered as an elderly man struggled with his coat. They were such mundane observations, but in the context of what I'd learnt they sparked my interest.

Atticus had said each action had the ability to influence the balance of the world, but I wondered how sensitive that balance really was. Could those two acts —as small as they were— have shifted the balance, even for a millisecond or two? Or did it take something big to the tip the scales? Were all these little acts just too small in the grand scale of things? Or was the balance in constant flux around us, balancing on a knife edge, eager to topple over and send the world into chaos?

Amber's shrill voice halted my train of thought, slicing through the din of the bar as I heard her finish serving a customer.

"Have a nice day!" she called with a toothy smile split across her face. Contrasted against her copper coloured hair, her teeth looked such a brilliant white that I imagined they'd glow violet under UV lights.

The customer, a middle-aged man with deep grooves on his forehead and a pristine suit, frowned at the sentiment before marching out the door. His steaming coffee cup in one hand while the other clasped the morning paper. It was clear he was not a man who cared whether his day was nice or not, as long as it was productive.

Undeterred, Amber tossed her flawlessly coiffed waves until they tumbled down her back. Next, she pushed her shoulders back, standing poised and ready for the next customer to walk in the door. It was like watching a robot reset at the end of a task.

She must have sensed my sardonic gaze because her russet brown eyes slid in my direction.

"I heard they say it in America all the time," she said with a superior confidence we'd all come to associate with her. "I thought it might be a nice change," she finished as her head took on a condescending tilt.

A snort sounded from the stairwell on my left and I turned to see Callum rolling his eyes as he reached for a crate of empty glasses. We shared a smirk as I bent to help him lift the heavy load before returning my attention to Amber.

"But this is the UK," I returned. "We don't have nice days. We spend six months of the year complaining it's too cold, and then when summer comes around, we complain it's too hot."

Amber propped her hand on her hip while the other splayed on the cash register, like she was staking a claim on the role of cashier. For someone who had been here less than half the time me, Cal or Emma had, she seemed to feel twice the amount of entitlement.

"Kelly thought it was a good idea," she said with a haughty edge. Whether she knew it or not, Kelly was my weakness when it came to working at the bar.

"Fair enough," I said through gritted teeth, stifling the itch rippling under my skin as I turned towards a customer hovering on the other side of the counter.

"What can I get you?" I asked the girl as Amber served a customer a diet Coke with a smug smile on her face.

A pointed finger was the only response I got as the girl signalled for me to wait while she finished texting on her phone.

As the seconds wore on, I could feel the muscles at the base of my neck tighten with annoyance. By the time the girl spoke, my foot was vibrating against the floor in an attempt to keep my cool.

Without looking up from her phone she asked, "Can I have a half-caf soy sugar-free vanilla flat white with extra foam?"

Her bored nasal voice grated against my eardrums and I felt the itch break free.

"Sweetie, that's not a drink order that's a cry for help," I drawled, crossing my arms as I stared at her across the counter.

Her fingers ceased tapping and cool grey eyes flashed to my own with disbelief. "How can you talk to me like that?" she spluttered.

"Well you see I opened my mouth, formed words, and then said them," I mocked with a wide innocent stare.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Amber's etched on eyebrows rise in judgment. Kelly's face flashed in my mind and I felt a flicker of guilt. Just a flicker, but it was enough to tame the itch.

With a saccharin smile fixed in place I tried again. "Sorry. That was rude."

"Whatever, can I get my coffee?" she sniffed, returning to her phone. Her false nails —sharpened like talons— clicked against the shiny surface. The irritating tap tap tap drowned out the hustle and bustle around us.

At least you tried, the itch sighed in my mind before I made my acidic reply.

"You can get a coffee, but I can't promise it'll be that one."

With an annoyed sigh she stashed her phone in her coat pocket and glared at me with pursed thin lips. Her facial features were as sharp as her demeanour, with a pointed straight nose and acutely arched eyebrows that made every expression look irritated.

"Fine, what do you have?" she snapped. Her talons clattered on the counter while she rolled her fingertips on the surface.

With a polite smile I pointed to the drinks blackboard above me. It was scribbled in Amber's loopy handwriting, the random 'i's dotted with hearts. I couldn't wait to wipe it clean at the end of the day.

"We've got a couple of milk alternatives, and I might even be able to make one of those pretty pictures on top for your 'gram post, if you ask nicely."

While she decided, I smirked as I spotted the discrete rude cartoon Callum had doodled in the bottom corner of the board.

With a disgruntled huff she ordered. "I'll have a soy latte to go."

"No problem."

As she moved along the counter to pay at the register, I fired up the coffee machine. I shouldn't have taken any enjoyment in toying with her. A better person would have rose above it and been the perfect professional. Luckily, my opinion of myself didn't reach that high.

In some twisted way it was nice to let the itch out to play, to let my darker side take the reins. Maybe that was my 'alignment' as Atticus called it. Maybe I wasn't meant to try and be light and bubbly and optimistic. Perhaps my default setting was to add to the darkness in the world. One sarcastic comment at a time.

I spun with the coffee in my hand and a grin on my face, gleaming as I handed the girl her order.

"Have a nice day!" I taunted with a bitter edge as she stormed out the bar.

Amber threw me a disapproving glare. "I can't believe Kelly hasn't fired you yet."

Chuckling from the darkened stairwell, like the Devil himself climbing up from hell, Callum grinned and countered Amber's comment.

"I love that Kelly hasn't fired you yet."

"Only because once I go you know you'll be next." I grinned as I cleaned down the coffee machine. I probably should have been bothered by Amber's comment, but the bottom line was that I didn't really care about her opinion. She was only filling in for Emma, and I knew I wouldn't have to work with her for long. If in that time she wanted to be the paragon of customer service then that was her prerogative.