“The usual, Ms Morika?” I asked with my ‘work’ smile. As a 20-year-old, broke undergraduate student, working in the food and beverage industry allowed me to barely scrape by my living expenses. A student by day, a café waiter by night. The café I worked at is a small one. Coffee, tea and some small bites enough to calm a growling stomach. In the past 3 months I’ve been working here, there has been one regular customer that always drops by after work. Her order is always the same. A cup of peppermint tea and a salad with chicken cubes. If she’s feeling a little indulgent, she might add a chocolate cupcake.
The Japanese lady smiled courteously as she replied, “Yes, please.” Nodding my head, I went to prepare her meal. From the counter, I occasionally stole a glance at her. Always dressed in an office attire, she wore minimal makeup and her black hair tied into a ponytail with her fringe brushed behind her ear. However, she is not some supermodel beauty. Heads don’t turn and stare wherever she walks. But to me, she is like the blooming flower by the roadside that nobody notices. Returning with her meal, I set it down on her table and wished her to enjoy her meal.