Today was not too different than any of the others.  Minho had the early shift, so he was in charge of making up the display snack case for the day.  These were his favorite days actually.  When he could come in early before no one was there.  He would turn on all the ovens and brewers for the little coffee shop and listen to them slowly wake up before the morning rush.  He would lay out all his ingredients on the counter and make a huge mess as he went. Mixing flour, spilling sugar, tasting unfinished toppings, not worried about who would see.  The most important part of Minho’s morning however came in a small plastic container.  Blueberries.  Small, plump, perfect orbs nestled together in their package.  He would sprinkle them into whatever he had made, be it scones, muffins, cookies, or even yogurt parfaits, it had to have blueberries. 

Why?

Well, because it was Thursday, and on Thursday and particular chestnut haired boy would come in, sit in the same seat, order the same coffee and what ever treat Minho and made, and read until it was time to catch his train.  

~*~*~

“Look at that,” Amber looked over her shoulder to smile at Minho as she passed the customer a steaming latte and nodded at the door. “4pm on the dot and he is here.”

Sure enough, not a second later the little rusted bell above the white wooden door chimed as it was pushed open and a slender young man, with pale skin, bright eyes and shiny chestnut hair carefully walked in.  Minho didn’t mean to, but he smiled seeing the familiar face enter the little shop.  Amber chuckled slightly, “you take his order, even though we both know it’ll be the same. I have to go clean that table.”

“Okay.”

Minho had plenty of regular customers, and even more that he knew their order just by their face. There was Monday morning man, straight black coffee with a donut to go, or the groups of kids who would come in Friday after school and order diabetes in a cup with the last of their weekly allowances. But this boy was different. He wasn’t just an order, he was part what made this shop so special. 

Minho could tell he worked or went to school a ways away, because he always showed up after the inner city buss dropped off around the corner.  It meant this boy went a little out of his way to come here. And Minho liked to think he knew why…

“Hi, can I please have a small mocha and a blueberry cupcake?” he smiled when he spoke and made just enough eye contact to be pleasant before looking in to the depths of his little wallet.

“Of course,” Minho grabbed a plate and took the prettiest cupcake, decorated with whipped purple frosting and a sprig of mint, sliding it carefully across the counter.  He totaled the ordered and took the boys money, promising to bring his coffee out when it was ready.  The boy thanked him with another sweet smile and took his seat by the window.  He opened his book and crossed his ankles under his seat.  Minho watched him over the top of the steamer as he poured hot milk over chocolate laced coffee.  Always the same.

The boy would wait until his coffee was ready and usually snap a picture of the pairing before slowly sipping his coffee and nibbling away. He stay there until just before Minho’s shift ended. Then he would pack up, stacking his dishes on the corner of his table, and head out in the direction of the subway station. 

Minho figure he came here to pass the time in-between when his bus dropped him off and the train came to take him home.  It was reasonable enough guess, but Minho knew he preferred this café, because in the last two months alone four chain coffee shops sprang up in-between this café and the bus station.  Minho knew there was one even in the subway station now.  So the fact that his Thursday regular still made his little journey to this café made Minho feel quite proud. 

Even though he didn’t own it, he worked like he did.  He had been hired by the owner while he was still in high school, teaching Minho how to work the register and even close the shop by himself on the weekends. After he graduated and expressed his interest in baking and culinary school the owner allowed him to ‘practice’ in the mornings and make treats to accompany the small coffee menu.  So Minho never left. He went to school and worked a normal schedule at the little café. So he did feel pride when some one like this boy showed a passion for it too.