Mocha Magic
At the centre of a sleepy little town stood The Enchanted
Mug—a strange little cafe where latte art sometimes winked at you in a knowing
glance. The regulars knew the secret: this café was ever so slightly magical
and completely and utterly unrepeatable.
Juno, a perpetually curious barista who sported a streak of
teal hair, enforced a single rule: Never order the "Mocha of
Misunderstandings" unless Mercury is in retrograde.
Enter Leo—flustered charming and devastated. He collapsed
onto a window seat, grasping a paperback copy of Love, literally. Juno
came over with a smile and a menu rimmed faintly with glitter.
"I'll take… whatever will correct this," Leo
sighed melodramatically.
Juno looked up at the sky. Mercury wasn't in retrograde.
However, her cat the unofficial café manager meowed and knocked the recipe card
for the” Mocha of Misunderstandings “off the shelf.
“Well,” she whispered, “close enough.”
Soon enough, the drink appeared—heart-swirled and
question-marked on the glass surface. Leo tasted a sip and promptly sneezed
when he opened his eyes and found a woman sitting across from him at the table.
She blinked hard. "Wait… aren't you the man who ghosted
me after three perfect dates and a very awkward night of singing off-key?"
Leo’s jaw dropped. “Maya?”
Behind the counter, she stood stunned. She knew Maya—a
former college roommate and part-time baker.
Leo stuttered, "I did not ghost you! I lost my phone in
a bet I made with a goat in Portugal."
Maya raised an eyebrow. "That's the worst excuse I've
ever heard—and I've once dated a time traveller."
As the tension mounted, Juno leaned in over her cat.
"They're either going to kill or kiss each other in three minutes."
The cat meowed.
Two minutes and forty-five seconds passed before Maya began
laughing. "Okay, maybe you didn't ghost me," she said. "You owe
me a dance—and I select the song."
Leo smiled. "Even if it's Barbie Girl
again?"
Juno brought them a platter of star-shaped cookies and
whispered to her cat, "Crisis averted. Romance rebooted."
Outside, the sky glimmered softly purple.
Its soft steam waited inside for the next victim—although
maybe a next happy ending—inside the Mocha of Misunderstandings.
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