The smell of freshly baked cookies and coffee aren’t the only reason why I’m still working at Salon de Café. Mr. Han, the owner of the shop, is probably more fatherly than my own father and I owe him too much. He let me stay in his house with the rest of his family when he found out I got kicked out of my first apartment and helped me find a new, and decent one, the one where I live now. “The place is trash anyway,” he said when he tried cheering me up. Well, it’s true. The lock had been broken since I moved in and the landlady never bothered fixing it even when I reported it for like 30 times; I had to chain the doorknob to the barred windows tight and lock it with a padlock to make sure no one’s gonna come in my room and steal the only things I had left to lose. The place was small and the heater was barely working, back then, hot packs and a comforter were my only friends on a cold night.

My life wasn’t as bad as it sounds though. Because of my brother, I was able to eat three times a day and even buy new clothes just because he had some extra cash with him. Of course, he hated the fact that I had to stay in a cheap, dirty apartment. He let me stay in his pad for more than a week but his boss found out and asked me to leave because apparently, his pad is paid by the hospital he’s working at and for some reason, they didn’t want an extra body in that small studio room. He offered money for me to move out and find a better apartment, but it wasn’t enough. Because in a place like Gangnam, there’s no such thing as cheap but decent apartment.

Aside from having my supportive brother by my side, I met a lot of friends around the area that were in the same scene I was in. I found struggling artists like me and they helped me confidently express myself through rhythm and poems. We would go to shows of our favorite local artists and even share our music to the crowd by distributing our home-recorded mixtapes. Until now, we still do like that but I’ve been having a hard time composing rhythms in my head lately. I guess it isn’t my year.

“You’re early,” Mr. Han greeted me with a smile at the moment I passed by him on my way to the locker room. He’s always two hours early before the shop’s opening hour, he’s the baker and the barista after all. He’d make sure he’d be able to serve a good breakfast bagel and a warm cup of coffee to the busy corporate citizens of Seoul. His nephew, Han Kihyun, is always there to help him out but he always comes late to work, even when he only lives five minutes away from the shop itself. He’s really helpful though, probably more helpful than me since his actual profession is coffee making (he has a legitimate certificate that says so).

“Yeah… kinda feel like starting this day earlier than usual.” I pushed the door to the locker room and went straight to the second locker on the right side of the room. I placed my bag in the locker and quickly changed into our white and plaid blue uniform.

I searched for my phone and a flash drive under the pile of useless things in my bag and rang Park Dongsun’s phone. It took about five rings before he picked the phone up. “Get over here, I brought the USB.” I said as I keep the flash drive in my apron’s pocket.

“It’s 5AM,” he mumbled with a yawn.

“I’m just reminding you so it’ll be the first thing you’ll do today.”

“Doesn’t sound like a reminder to me.” I almost didn’t understand the mumble, he was obviously still half-asleep.

The shop got easily filled with busy people, who didn’t have time to cook breakfast for themselves, at the moment the sign on the shop’s door was flipped to OPEN. Monday is always stressing. Everyone seemed grumpy, only few people thanked me for handing them their warm coffee. No one likes Mondays anyway.

At the moment the rush hour was over, the shop was back to being peaceful and quiet. We’re already used to the chaotic Monday morning and once it’s over, we can all finally breathe and rest every now and then. For the rest of the day, only few people will come chill and have a piece of cake. Some will get a venti and slowly sip it just so they could have the right to stay in Salon de Café for two hours. Although such rule never existed, I’ve observed people do it anyway.

I was walking to a customer’s table carrying a tray filled with her orders when a man suddenly bumped into me. I dropped the tray and knocked onto a table before completely falling on the ground. I’m not sure whether or not I was pushed on purpose, but the force that lead to the fall was firm. The man didn’t care, he didn’t even look back.

“Watch it, !” The customer on the table I bumped into barked at the fellow who caused me to fall in the first place. He was carrying his laptop with both of his hands since his table was filled with spilled coffee. At the moment the crude man left the store, the customer with the laptop looked at me and asked, “Are you okay?”

The shadow of his white baseball cap kept his eyes hidden, but from my view from the ground as he towered over me, I was able to take a peek of his boring eyes. I was uncertain of its color, although I knew that didn’t matter.

“Thank you, I’m okay,” I abruptly cleaned the pieces of broken porcelain plate and mug on the floor. It was embarrassing, my day just couldn’t get worse. I felt everyone’s eyes on me, it made me conscious as to how pitiful I probably looked.

“Are you sure?” the boy asked.

I nodded.

“Okay,” he drawled. “Can you clean this up first?” I glanced up at the boy, I tried not to sneer so I ended up throwing a fake smile. Of course, I had to understand him, both of his hands were still carrying the laptop and it seemed like he was doing something important on it.

I stood up and noticed my flash drive on his table, swimming in cold coffee. I touched my apron’s pocket just to make sure it’s mine. The flash drive wasn’t in my pocket so I quickly grabbed it before cleaning the table as fast as I could.

After the incident, I took a break at the locker room. Kihyun thought I needed one since I kinda looked like I was about to bury myself under the ground out of embarrassment. But I didn’t need one, I had to distract myself so I could somehow forget about it. Doing nothing would make me replay what happened in my head and I would bang my head against the wall because, apparently, a trauma in the brain could make me completely forget about it.

Mr. Han entered the locker room with a cup of coffee, the same coffee that I spilled on one of the customer’s table. I thought it was for me but before I got to take a taste of it, Mr. Han said, “That’s not yours.” I frowned, I needed one. “Give it to the boy who shouted at the one who pushed you, say you’re sorry for causing a trouble and thank him.”

One thing I hate about being a waitress, it’s always your fault and you should always be sorry. I sighed before pushing myself up from my seat. I grabbed a coaster on my way through the kitchen and before I knew it, I was already standing in front of the boy. He looked up at me and waited for me to say something.

“I’m sorry for the trouble I caused, here’s a coffee to compensate.” He watched me awkwardly place the coffee on his table as he closed his laptop.

“You don’t have to, I'm about to leave,” he finally said.

“Oh,” I replied, picking up what I just placed on his table.

“You know what,” he picked his wallet from his duffel bag and took out 50 000 won. “Here,” he lightly slammed the money on the table. “I saw you broke a plate and a mug, your boss will probably ask you to pay for it.”

“That’s more than enough.” I couldn’t take the money. Mr. Han won’t ask me to pay for it, I’m like his own daughter and he understands things like this, especially when he saw what really happened right before his own pair of eyes.

“I earn a lot, it's no big deal,” he shrugged and stood up with his duffel bag on his left shoulder and his laptop on his right hand. He just left the coffee shop without even letting me say another word.

So there I was, standing in front of an empty seat with a cup of hot coffee in my hand and a 50 000 won sitting right in front of me.