It is now dark outside and the coffee shop is empty with the exception of me, the barista. I gaze past the familiar burgundy wooden walls and the red lampshades that cast soft shadows to observe the bustling city outside. Through the spotless glass windows, neon lights flash everywhere, illuminating the streets of Seoul. Skyscrapers loom over tourists of different races, who scrutinize at everything in awe and chatter in excitement. I long to be out there however, my shift at the café does not end for approximately another one hour. It is now thirteen minutes to nine. I sigh out of pity, allowing the faint scent of coffee beans to waft into my nose.

Then, the tinkle of the bell at the door signals a customer. I look up to see a teenage girl sauntering in with a large designer bag around her wrist. As she reaches the counter, she eyes my coffee-stained apron in disgust before ordering a black coffee without any sugar. The female reaches into her bag, pulling out several crumpled notes and drops them into my outstretched palm. Seeing that I had been given the exact amount, I hand her receipt before giving her a quick bow of gratitude. She turns around, strolling to one of the chestnut brown tables before sitting down to take out her phone. I do the same, except I do not stroll to a table and take out my phone. Instead I begin on her order.    

“Hello?” I hear her say, “I am so missing you right now. It has been ages since I last saw you. I miss you. No, I miss you more. NO. Seriously. I miss you even more…”

I sigh, hearing the conversation go on like this for a few more minutes.

“So when can we meet again? Now? No, definitely not right now, I am in this awful restaurant right now. I don’t know why. Wait, it’s not even a restaurant, it’s a stupid coffee café. The service is terrible honestly, do you know how they treat me here. Ugh, one of the waitresses is even gawking at me right now. She seems to have forgotten I have an order.”

She shoots me a pointed look, then slowly turns her head away. Flicking her straight hair off her shoulder, the girl continues her conversation.

I scowl, pouring her drink into a clean cup to then place the cup of coffee on the table in front of her. She shoos me away impatiently with a perfectly manicured hand. I retreat back to my place behind the counter as the barista, and take a quick look in her direction.

“Anyway, how about meeting up tomorrow? In front of The Face Shop in Myeongdong at twelve? Is that okay with you? Okay, tomorrow, twelve, Face Shop in Myeongdong. Oh, by the way, did you see that weird Kim Hwayoung at school today? Did you see her hair?! It is just… hideous! She’s seriously a fashion criminal. I can’t imagine how she made it to school without being arrested. Style like that must be illegal…”

She continues to talk and gossip to her friend on the phone about this Kim Hwayoung, who apparently is a fashion criminal and has ‘hideous’ hair. I continue to listen out of boredom, scoffing at her shallow attitude. She seems almost completely oblivious at the fact that a drink has been placed in front of her.

“Ok, bye for now. Love you. Love you even more! No, I love you more…” She finishes. Putting down her phone onto the table, she begins to apply BB Cream on her already flawless face.

It wasn’t until ten minutes when she puts both her mobile device and bottle of BB Cream away in her handbag to take her first sip of the black coffee. I see her frown before striding over to me with her fancy bag at her wrist swinging to and fro.   

“This coffee is dreadful! It has no taste and it’s cold!” she complains.

“I’m sorry.” I say, plastering a fixed smile on my face. She continues her rant about the coffee. I do not mention that it would’ve been hot if she had not been chatting for such a long period of time, or it was her who asked for no sugar or cream.

“I demand a refund!”

With my forced smile still on, I reach into the register, pulling out her creased banknotes before placing them into her waiting palm. Haughtily, she struts towards the door however stops when the bell sounds again, indicating a new customer. This time, a boy, a tanned, handsome one. I realise it’s the male who comes to the coffee shop daily around nine in the evening for a cappuccino with no sugars. I take a peek at my watch and indeed, it is already nine.

The girl does a double take before walking to bump into him ‘accidentally’. The male briefly glances at her, bows before muttering a quick apology. She takes the short moment to flutter her eyelashes, twirl her long, dyed blonde hair around her finger and smile at the young man. I grimace at the sight, finding her flirtatious actions rather disturbing indeed.

However, to her disappointment, the boy does not s