Another day in the life of me.

 

Stand at the counter. Make coffee. Hand coffee to customer.

 

It wasn't all that easy to complicate.

 

Day in, day out, non stop. 

 

This is what becomes of a high school dropout. This is what becomes of someone who was practically crippled at the age of seventeen. This is the sealant of fate, one car accident later and suddenly I have a partially paralyzed leg and no drive to live. It's been two years since the accident, but the feelings have not shaken. My grandmother owns this shop; She brought me here to try and give me a future in the business, but I am only alive to keep her happy. I have no other reason to remain living when I can barely walk around in the five foot square behind the counter; I have the armspan to reach the coffee maker, and the cash register. That is it.

 

I clumsily mix together a steaming peppermint mocha into a sixteen ounce cup, and carefully shift it along the counter to the waiting customer; She was a crabby looking woman in a business suit  who gave me a sneer before walking away without leaving a single coin in the tip jar. Not that it mattered. She was typical of what we got here; In these streets, everyone worked with a major company or label. Everyone wore a business suit or business attire, and everyone knew how to make someone feel inferior to themselves.

 

I lean on the counter to take weight off my leg. It begins to feel weak after awhile, like it could collapse. Occasionally it does and I will make a fool of myself. I can't walk for more than fifteen minutes at a time, which is why I do my best to sit down while I take the money from customers or am waiting for the coffee to be done. 

 

I looked around the small coffee shop. A couple bags of our special beans were on the walls to be sold, as well as special holiday coffee mugs adorned with snowflakes and snowmen. It was a cheerful holiday for most, but not for me. I have no one now besides my grandmother to celebrate with, and I don't see the point. I may as well be a murderer now. I had been driving when the car had flipped. I had been controlling the wheel on the highway. I had gotten into the mess, yet I had been the one that survived.

 

I shook my head to clear it of the memory as the little bell on the door jingled to inform me that a customer was here. I looked up and tilted my head. This wasn't a typical customer like we normally had. It was a man with a slightly thicker build. He had soft brown eyes and his hair was blonde of all colors. He wore jeans with a blue jacket over a black shirt. No slacks, no suit, no tie. It was very unusual.

 

Of course, I didn't notice until it was too late that I had been staring. I could see him start to blush under my gaze and I quickly ducked my head and blushed too. Cautiously, I shifted my weight off the counter and hobbled my way to where he stood at the cash register.

 

"What can I get for you?" I said, a little shyly. I hadn't experienced an emotion like this since before the accident, it was almost foreign to me to feel the blood rushing to my face.

 

"A sixteen ounce pumpkin pie latte, please." He told me, clearing his throat, ducking his head just ever so slightly to try and hide his blush but I could see it anyway. As I limped my two steps to the coffee maker, I could feel his eyes carefully shift to look at me as if he was confused. I felt like I had seen this man somewhere before. Like I knew him. I poured some of the syrup and candy cane into the coffee and let it blend. I then turned and walked back to him.

 

"Three-fifty." I told him, biting my lip. I didn't dare look up. I was afraid to meet his eyes now.

 

I heard his voice despite my efforts. "You're limping."

 

My body tensed. Yes...I was limping. I could feel my hands shake a little but I got it under control. He didn't know. I didn't need to take my emotions out on him.

 

"Three-fifty." I said again, a little quieter, not responding to his question.

 

His eyes raised to look at me and he seemed curious, but took my warning and didn't reply. He just took the money from his pocket and slid it over to me. I placed it into the cash register, then returned to the coffee, taking it and handing it to him without another word.

 

He looked down at my hands as I did so, as if he wanted to help me. I didn't need his pity. I would continue to tell myself that. My thoughts, however, left me unprepared for his next question.

 

"What's your name?" He asked me

.

I looked up in surprise. In these years I had been here never once had someone even tried to be nice to me, let alone express concern, smile, and ask my name in the same day. I stuttered a response, "Uh-uh..." I swallowed, "Chae." 

 

"Chae." He repeated. "I like it. Well...You can call me Daesung. I hope I'll see you here more often." He smiled at me. It was a gentle, small smile but I could see how absolutely stunning it was. As he turned and left the coffee shop, I sat down in my chair next to the register. Had that really just happened?