beautiful,
홍빈&?? [ 1314am ]
It’s rather surprising how, at least for someone like Hongbin, one can find peace and solace in a busy cafe. He enjoyed it, regardless of the high levels of of noise that can fill the four walls that house them; the fact that quiet conversation can turn into the opposite when there were twenty or so people involved.
After he’s served the last of the morning rush, a lovely mother of two who asked for a glass of milk for her children, to which he was happy to oblige, he retrieves his textbook from under the counter. The managers always complained that there counter was more textbooks than food and Hongbin would always laugh it off. They were right, after all. No one complained, not when half of their revenue came from students that came in to swoon over his dimples. He tends to laugh that off, too, though he can’t shake the feeling that it was wrong.
Today, he was rereading a textbook on CPR, refreshing his mind on the necessary steps to be taken if someone suffers a heart attack or, worse, within the store. Given the time and day, he thinks that leaves him at least half an hour until another order comes through. He’s made it through the passage on breathing rhythms, when someone approaches the register.
He tucks the text book under his arm, smiles brightly, and welcomes them. “Good morn--oh, it’s afternoon now,” The other barista’s always say that people flock to his shift because he always looked like he had a smile on his face--if resting bitch face was a thing, for Hongbin, it was a resting smile face. He never understood what that meant. “How can I help you today?”
