“One tall, non-fat latte with caramel drizzle” The same order rings through Momo’s ears just like every other morning at, check the time, 7:25 am. Punching the order in, she kindly tells the girl with pink-dyed hair that her order will be here shortly and she can take a seat at her preferred table.

“Can I have a name for that order?” Momo braces herself for the pickup line she knows is going to follow. She would just write down ‘Nayeon’ instead of asking the girl every time for her name, but her manager did insist they ask the customers for their name every time they place an order, regardless how regularly they might come to the campus coffee shop.

(Momo assumes this precaution was put in place following the incident earlier this month where they accidently gave someone who was lactose intolerant a full-fat milk cappuccino instead of the soy-milk one they had ordered)

“Can I just give you my number instead?” Without looking up Momo can hear the smirk evident in the girl’s voice. Physically wincing, she puts on her best smile and looks up, staring the pink-head straight in the eyes.

“Nayeon it is.” The girl laughs, throwing her head back and her bunny teeth appear. Her eyes crinkle at the edges, reminding Momo of the crescent moon she snuck out to watch last night. Her cheeks plump and there’s a faint blush scattered across them, alerting Momo that Nayeon is slightly embarrassed.

This also alerts Momo to the fact that she may be taking too much notice of Nayeon’s features. She looks back down to her monitor typing the name down, and watches as Nayeon saunters her way over to table 36 (hey, that’s my favourite table), sitting herself down and staring out the window at students passing by on their way to class. There’s a small smile playing on Nayeon’s lips as she pulls out her phone and quickly replies to whomever sent her a message.

(Momo ignores the pang of jealousy that ran through her whole body).

She shakes her head off, clearing her thoughts, before calling out the next person in line.

Let’s not tell Sana about this, she comes to the conclusion.

The café quietens down after the usual morning rush, the customers all engrossed in their own worlds. Some might be staring out windows at passers-by, others talking to their friends at tables or the collection of old couches people had donated. The music player in the corner, which had been designed to look like a jukebox by some of the art and engineering students at the campus, plays quiet music that fills the whole shop. When Momo takes the final customer’s order, she heads towards the tables to clear up the remnants.

(“Why you chose the shift between your classes will always confuse me.” Sana lies on her back upon Momo’s bed, playing Candy Crush on her phone. Momo sprays her last living plant with water, before flopping down beside Sana, causing the bed to shake and the girl drop her phone on her face.

“It’s the only time that the shop and my schedules match up. Besides, it’s not like I have anything to do during breaks since you’re so busy hanging out with your roommate.” Momo pokes Sana’s side, earning a glare from the younger Japanese girl.

“She’s cute okay? She took me out last week so we could buy dorm furniture. And she bought me lunch! You should’ve seen her face Momo, when she was begging me to buy this shower speaker. Her eyes gave puppies themselves a run for their money!” Sana turns her phone off staring at the ceiling, now that something else caught her attention rather than the game. “What about Mina, I thought you guys would’ve been together?”

Momo shakes her head. “That penguin has been studying through and through for her bio exam. I swear I’ve never seen her so focused, she turned me down yesterday when I said we were going to that buffet down the street!” That stopped Sana’s daydreaming, and the girl shoots straight up on the bed.

“No way!” Momo nods “That’s her favourite place! She would never do that!”

“She did.”)

Momo grabs her cleaning belt, and heads towards table 36. After carrying the plates away, she brings out the cloth and starts wiping down the table. Scanning it for any remnants of food, she picks up the bowl that contains the tips left behind by customers.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Momo mutters under her breath.

Just like every other day. The bowl is empty.

“I don’t understand, she never leaves a tip!” Sana, Mina and Momo are sitting on the floor of Mina’s too-big-for-one-person apartment, eating pizza with a