Toru woke up to an uncomfortable tightness in her chest, a familiar sensation she didn’t welcome. Her eyes fluttered open, and she sighed heavily. Anxiety again. She lay still for a moment, mentally scanning her body. No nightmares she could remember. She hadn’t jolted out of bed or overexerted herself. It was frustrating—this feeling of unease that came without warning, very much an uninvited guest.
Pushing herself out of bed, she shuffled quietly through the dim studio apartment, careful not to disturb Saori, who was still asleep. The warm light over the counter illuminated the kitchen, and Toru set to work brewing her morning coffee.
”Why do I feel like this already?” she wondered, her inner voice edged with irritation.
I should have woken up like this yesterday. That would’ve made more sense, considering it was the first day my drink went on the board. She paused, leaning against the counter as the coffee machine whirred softly.
She rubbed her temples and shook her head, trying to will away the tension. “This is maddening,” she muttered under her breath, conscious of keeping her voice low.
”I’m just standing here at four in the morning, getting ready for a job I love, surrounded by people I adore, and I feel like I’m going to freak out.”
The coffee was done brewing, the aroma filling the kitchen with its familiar comfort. Toru grabbed her favorite mug, added a spoonful of brown sugar, and poured in just enough half-and-half to lighten the coffee’s rich tone. Stirring it slowly, she took a long, steady sip. The warmth spread through her, soothing but not enough to chase the unease away completely.
She wrapped Saori’s oversized navy pea coat from the hook by the door over her pajamas. The fleece lining was thick and comforting as she stepped outside onto their porch.
The alley was quiet, with only the glow of a nearby streetlight. Their parking lot wasn’t much to look at—just a patch of asphalt where her Bronco and Saori’s sports bike sat covered in dew. The stillness of the early morning pressed against her, cold but not unpleasant.
She clutched her coffee close, sipping again as she leaned on the railing. Her arms instinctively hugged her sides, seeking warmth, and she felt something stiff and boxy in the coat’s inside pocket. Curious, she set her mug down and reached in, pulling out a rectangular box. She laughed softly when she saw it—a pack of Marlboro Light 100s and a lighter.
“Oh, Saori,” she said with a smirk, shaking her head. You’re going to get cancer before thirty.”
But at this moment, she didn’t care. Toru wasn’t a smoker, but the idea of a cigarette with her coffee, standing in the stillness of the alleyway, felt oddly perfect.
She lit one, inhaling deeply, and exhaled a stream of smoke into the cool air. The sensation was oddly grounding a rebellious little indulgence.
Maybe Saori’s right, she thought, taking another drag. A nice cigarette and coffee in the quiet morning is a beautiful thing.
She stood there for a while, savoring the cigarette and coffee, her subconscious working hard to calm the rest of her. The physical tightness in her chest hadn’t vanished entirely, but it had dulled into something she could manage. She repeated quiet affirmations to herself as she stared down the empty alley.
I’m proud of you. You did something amazing yesterday. People loved the drink. You took care of yourself. Everything is fine.
The cigarette burned down to the filter, and she stamped it out on the railing before heading back inside. Her coffee was still warm in her hand, and Toru reminded herself that despite everything, her life was good. Moments like this—the quiet before the chaos of the café—were a gift, and she wasn’t going to let anxiety take them away.
She knew that getting ready and making her way to the café and the early morning preparation would at least distract her mind from her overwhelming awareness of these physical sensations.
A quiet morning, a great cup of coffee, and a cigarette… she laughed to herself.
I guess it doesn’t get better than this.
<h2>Hana’s Morning Routine</h2>
Hana woke up in a cold sweat again. It had been years since she’d left her ex-husband, but the nightmares still came regularly. They always followed the same pattern: vague, blurry words filled with anger and venom, the sensation of being choked in her sleep, and the desperate, panicked gasp for air that would yank her awake. Though the fear wasn’t as sharp anymore, the dreams left a hollow ache in her stomach that took time to shake off.
She rolled over, looking at the clock on her nightstand. It was early, as always. Hana dreaded this part of the day the most when she had to pull herself out of bed and disrupt her son’s peaceful sleep. Glancing over at Preston, curled up and cozy in her bed, she felt a pang of guilt. He looked so small and serene, his little chest rising and falling rhythmically. The thought of waking him tore at her heart.
But there wasn’t any choice. She lived an hour from KikiTori Café without traffic, and her early morning shift meant she had to leave before sunrise. The tips were excellent, allowing her to afford a modest house in a quiet neighborhood—a home with a fenced-in yard where Preston and their tiny dog could run around freely. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it.
Hana carefully nudged Preston awake, whispering softly, “Come on, buddy. We’ve got to get ready.” He stirred, groaning faintly, but eventually opened his eyes. She hated these moments. She wished she could let him sleep until he woke up on his own and spent slow mornings together making pancakes and watching cartoons.
Instead, she had to rush him out the door, dropping him off at his dad’s house on the way to work. Thankfully, her ex’s new wife was a kind woman, and Preston always seemed happy to spend time with his father. Still, it didn’t make things easier for Hana.
Her marriage had been a nightmare. For years, Hana had dreamed of starting a family with someone who would love and protect her. She thought she had found that in her ex-husband. They married young, and for a while, it felt like everything was falling into place. But when they struggled to conceive, cracks began to form.
It took two years of trying before Hana finally became pregnant with Preston. She had hoped the pregnancy would be a fresh start for them, a chance to heal and move forward. Instead, it was the beginning of the end. Her ex’s drinking escalated, his temper became volatile, and the once-loving man she’d married turned into someone she no longer recognized. The abuse—emotional and physical—came quickly after.
By the time Preston was a toddler, Hana knew she couldn’t stay. The divorce had been grueling, filled with restraining orders, court hearings, and endless threats. But Hana had fought for her freedom, and for the past two years, she’d been building a new life for herself and Preston.
The café job had been a saving grace. Kai and his wife, Rin, had taken her in during some of her darkest days, giving her a place to stay and helping her find her footing. They treated her like family, and Hana couldn’t imagine where she’d be without them.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.
As she got Preston dressed and bundled him into the car, the sky beginning to lighten with the approaching dawn, she reminded herself.
We’re okay now.
The nightmares might always linger, but the life she’d built for herself and her son was stronger than the memories of the past.
Hana stepped into the café, pulling her apron over her head as she approached the counter. Toru glanced up from the espresso machine.
“How was traffic?” Toru asked.
“It wasn’t too bad, thankfully,” Hana replied, tying the apron strings behind her back.
“And how was drop-off?”
“Same as ever,” she said with a slight shrug. “I think Preston might be coming down with a little cold, though, and that kind of bums me out.”
“Well, if you need to go or leave early, let me know. I’m more than happy to cover your shift,” Toru offered.
“That’s sweet of you, but I need all the hours I can get,” Hana said with a faint smile. “I’m trying to budget for Christmas.”
“Well, if I take your shift, you can keep the tips,” Toru suggested.
“Thanks, but he’s in good hands. I know they’ll take care of him.”
“I’m glad you at least have that,” Toru said sincerely.
“Me too. Our relationship wasn’t great, but I do trust him as a father. That’s a huge blessing.”
As the conversation paused, the bell above the door jingled, and Randall, one of the regulars, walked in. The tall firefighter, with a monotone way of speaking, greeted them with a nod. The staff had secretly nicknamed him “Dull,” though never to his face. They habitually assigned playful nicknames to their customers, usually tied to their personalities or regular orders.
Toru leaned closer to Hana, whispering, “Your future boyfriend just walked in.”
Hana laughed softly, shaking her head. “Nope. I think my sensitive needs will never match up with a guy. I’m sticking with ladies from now on.”
“Fair enough,” Toru said with a grin.
Though she didn’t know the full extent of Hana’s background, Toru could empathize. She often reflected on how societal pressures and emotional traumas seemed to weigh on everyone. It wasn’t the same fight-or-flight instinct people had a century ago—it was something more chronic, more pervasive.
No wonder everyone’s on medication these days, Toru thought, catching herself in a fleeting moment of frustration.
Randall approached the counter, placing a long order for his crew. He was always the one sent to pick up the drinks, and the café staff appreciated his unfailing politeness.
“How are all the boys this morning?” Hana asked as she started on his order.
“They’re doing good,” Randall replied in his usual flat tone.
“Anything exciting happen yesterday, or was it all quiet on the fire front?”
“Oh, you know, pulling cats out of trees and stuff. The usual.”
Hana raised an eyebrow with a teasing smile. “You get a lot of calls for cats in trees here in the big city?”
Randall chuckled, shaking his head. “I wish. It’d be nice to get a call like that every once in a while.”
“Well, if my cat ends up in a tree, you’ll be the first person I call.”
“You know, you could always put your cat in a tree and call us anyway,” Randall quipped with a rare grin.
Toru, watching the exchange, smirked to herself. Even with that monotone voice, I think he’s flirting.
Hana laughed. “No chance. I’m afraid of heights. Plus, if I had a cat, knowing me, she’d be too fat to throw into a tree.”
Randall chuckled as he loaded the drinks into a carrier, nodded to both, and left.
“I’m pretty sure he was hitting on you,” Toru said, leaning against the counter.
“Maybe,” Hana said, grinning. “But I don’t think I could be with someone who sounds like the teacher from Ferris Bueller.”
Toru took a sip of her coffee but burst into laughter mid-drink, nearly spitting it into the sink.
As the clock edged closer to 10, the pace of the café began to slow. The rush gave way to the quieter hours when most people were already working. Toru wiped her hands on a towel and glanced at the clock. Another half hour, and she’d be off.
The door swung open, the familiar jingle of the bell announcing Julie’s arrival. She stepped in with the kind of energy that could only come from a morning spent on the trails. Her cheeks were pink from the crisp November air, and her running shoes were dusted with a bit of dried mud.
“Hey, morning, Julie,” Kai called from behind the counter as he restocked the pastry case.
Toru looked up from the espresso machine and offered a small wave. Julie made a beeline for the counter, sliding onto one of the stools.
“You look like you ran a marathon,” Toru said, setting down a clean mug.
“Close. Just a long trail run,” Julie replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It was gorgeous out but cold. I was thinking about that lavender matcha the whole way back.”
Toru blinked. “Really?”
Julie nodded. “Yeah. It was so good yesterday—I can’t stop thinking about it. Would you mind making me one? I could really use something warm and soothing right now.”
Toru hesitated. Praise like this didn’t come often, and when it did, it always felt… strange. awkward.
She wasn’t used to being the center of attention, and the idea that something she’d made lingered in someone else’s mind was flattering and overwhelming.
“Uh, yeah. Sure,” Toru said, turning toward the espresso machine. She focused on measuring the grounds and steaming the milk, trying to shake the unease creeping into her chest.
"This is so ridiculous… I don’t even understand why this feeling is there… Even when I’m in a place of calm. I’m in my place. I’m with my friends. All doesn’t get much more right than it is in the world right now. I even have someone like Julie, who I admire, who loves my drink. This feeling I have in my chest should be excitement and not anxiousness, " Toru thought to herself.But a small part of her—a part she rarely let herself listen to—whispered back: What if it is unique? What if you’re good at this?
She frowned slightly at the thought, brushing it aside as she drizzled honey into the cup.
Kai leaned over the counter, watching her work. “She’s got a hook here, huh?” he said to Julie.
Julie laughed. “Completely. I don’t even know what it is—something about the lavender... It’s just… peaceful, you know?”
Toru glanced over her shoulder, surprised by the description. “Peaceful?”
“Yeah,” Julie said, resting her chin in her hand. “It’s like, for a moment, everything feels a little easier. Warmer. Brighter. You nailed it, Toru.”
The knot of awkwardness tightened in Toru’s chest. She forced a small smile, turning back to finish the latte.
She set the drink in front of Julie, avoiding her gaze. “Here you go. Hope it’s as good as you remember.”
Julie took a sip, her eyes closing briefly as she savored the flavor. “Even better,” she said with a satisfied sigh.
Kai grinned, nudging Toru. “Told you. Magic.”
Toru rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the faint blush creeping up her neck. She busied herself cleaning the steam wand, trying to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks.
Julie leaned on the counter, watching her. “You know, you should really write this one down. Keep it for the seasonal menu or something. It’s too good to lose.”
Toru paused, her hands stilling for a moment. The idea of permanence—of her drink being part of something bigger—made her stomach flutter.
“We’ll see,” she said quietly, but a tiny smile curved her lips as she moved to the sink.
The café felt warm and safe in the soft late morning light.
Hana
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