A Second Shot [Coffee]

[wdango]

"...What?"

You just can't believe it.

"You didn't make it into the finals, James." David repeats the news grimly. His voice is hoarse. Knowing his temper, you guess that he's been yelling at the judges.

That... That doesn't make any sense. At all.

"But that doesn't make sense," you say weakly. "Our coffee was the best. And I didn't make any mistakes. We all checked the videos. The run was perfect."

He shakes his head. "They said they found you cheating."

"No." You suddenly feel like you've been plunged into ice water.

He looks you in the eye. "Yes. And you're banned from all future competitions."

Inside your chest, anger flares up like a snake rearing its head. "Those--!!"

"--Stop."

"..." Your chest heaves. Your fists clench. He's right. There's no use.

"..."

You shake, but you gather yourself just enough to let out a shuddering breath.

"Well, then. Now, what..?"

A pause.

"We'll fix it. I'll get the PR department to run damage control."

"David. The damages to Alter if I stay--"

"--and you're our head barista. What do you think is going to happen to our operations if we lose you just like that?"

"I..."

"The team still needs you, James." He sighs. "And they won't doubt your integrity."

"I know that!" You snarl, but the heat in your own voice surprises yourself. "...I know that. We all know that it's those Grind bastards who--"

"--what about your wife?"

"What about my wife? I need to think about this." You avert your gaze. "Let me think about this. Just... Just. I'll talk to you later, David."

You walk away.

He doesn't stop you.

 

[wdango]

The bell on the door jingles as you push it open.

Since the coffee craze four, five years ago, cafes have begun to sprout like mushrooms, and many of them end up just like this one. Without a reputation, barely a patron to sit at their tables, naught but a lonely owner guarding the espresso bar like a sentinel against customers who would never come. If you never began working for Alter, this might have been your fate, too.

Perhaps that's the reason why it feels so bittersweet walking into an establishment like this one, at once comforted yet tortured by what has come to pass, and by what could have been.

"Welcome." The old man at the bar smiles vaguely as he looks at you.

You grimace a half-hearted smile back, and slide yourself onto a barstool.

The old man places a glass of water in front of you. "Would you like to order?"

A cursory glance around the shop suggests that there isn't a menu displayed for the convenience of its patrons, but... You glance at the equipment; there's only a single espresso grinder, but it looks like a good one. You shrug. "I'll have your espresso."

"Sure. Just a minute."

You sip your water to wash out the dryness in your mouth, and sigh. You should have known better than to hope for too much, to be honest. No matter how well prepared you were... No matter how strong your game was, you forgot that the sponsor for the Championship is one of the Three Great Roasters of the nation, The Rough Grind.

On the other hand, you're part of Alter Coffee Roasters, their biggest rival.

Grind has been monopolising the Champion's title for the past three years, so it's not too surprising that they would resort to underhanded methods to maintain their claim on it...

The clink of ceramic on the wooden bartop breaks you out of your thoughts.

"Looks like you've got a lot of weight on your shoulders." The old man says wryly. "What's the problem?"

You hesitate, unused to being on the other side of this exchange, then you let out a long sigh. "Just work being shittier than usual, y'know." You shake your head. "Same shit, different dose."

"Tell me about it. We've all had those days." He nods, gesturing to the empty shop. "But it's not so bad as long as you still have good coffee to drink, I think."

"You're not wrong," you allow with a wry smile of your own.

Lifting the espresso cup to your lips, you take a sip.

Hot cocoa by the fireplace as the autumn turns into winter. The first time you held your wife's hand in your own, and the crunch of dry leaves under your heavy boots. The barren trees, the light drizzle, her cold palm and how freezing it felt upon your cheeks. The press of her jacketed body against your own, standing on the tips of her toes, and...

"This flavour..."

"This espresso blend is called The Nostalgia." You can hear the smile in his voice, and you look up to catch his crinkled eyes. "It's 80% Guatemalan and 20% Ethiopian."

You pause. That's a nonsensical composition that shouldn't make any sense at all, but...

"The pain of not being able to return..?" This sort of flavour... This sort of truly nostalgic flavour..... The anger that's been bundled up like a knot in your chest begins to melt away, leaving behind a trembling melancholy that echoes to your shoulders and your fingertips.

With shaking hands, you down the rest of the espresso.

Although you've lost a lot today, this coffee tastes like a reminder of the things that matter. But still... the aftertaste lingers in your mouth like a goodbye kiss from a longtime lover, and you bow your head to conceal the depth of your emotions. "It's a good name."

"It is, isn't it? We can never forget the things we've lost -- the things that we can never get back."

"...You're right." It's not your fault, but you feel like it is. If only you had known how corrupted the coffee industry really was... "There's so much I would've done differently, had I known."

"If you had the chance to do it again from the very beginning..?"

You bark out a mirthless laugh. You know he's just asking vague questions to prompt you to talk, the same way you always do for your customers, but... it works. "It's not like I have much left to lose, do I..? I can't stay where I am right now, or everyone else will have to pay for it."

"You should be careful what you wish for, young man."

Carefully, you breathe. "I'll leave them behind. I have to."

"Stay for a while," he says. "I'll give you a second shot, on the house."

He pointedly ignores the dampness on your cheeks, and you compose yourself to the familiar sounds of the espresso machine.