Novel & Cerita Coffee Maid

She protested. "I'm sorry, Ms. Thompson, but I will be punished if I let you escape." The driver was not exceptionally respectful, and turned to exit the cafe. Her heart raced. One moment later and the driver might have found out what happened. She sat down on her seat and finished her cup of coffee, before walking over to the counter to buy coffee beans. "Which one of these are the most expensive?" "This Blue Mountain brand is the most expensive, but it has a smooth flavor and is artificially cultivated," the receptionist suggested.

“Mocha.” As Michael placed her order, he asked for a cup of Blue Mountain coffee. Realizing that he was drinking the same brand of coffee as Christina, Serena felt a pang of jealousy and hatred. Her face showed otherwise as she tried to look concerned. “You’ve lost a lot of weight, Michael.”

"One pot of race fuel coming up." Elena walked to the kitchen and reached for her secret stash. She took out a sealed container and popped it open. She then retrieved the bag of Sello Roho coffee and scooped out enough to make a pot of high-octane coffee. Normally this was only available on the streets of Columbia, but she had bought this over the Internet. Starbuck's couldn't even come close to how good this stuff tasted; they were a pale wanna-be compared to this. The Hawaiian stuff she had tried from a friend came close, but this stuff had the caffeine equivalent of a six-pack of Jolt Cola. When the coffee was brewing and Elena was automatically going through her normal breakfast ritual,

Chastity smiled shyly at him. “I will. On one condition.” Colby said. “What condition?” Chastity asked sadly. “Tell me how the hell you make your coffee so good. Every other coffee tastes like shit compared to yours.” Colby grumbled. “Really?” Chastity laughed. “Hell yes! The only good coffee is yours. All the rest is crap.” “Fine. One spoon of french roast, one spoon of hazelnut, and one spoon of dark roast. But them in a container, shake it well, then dump in the filter, and start.”

Sure enough, his voice slid across the mind-link and answered my unspoken suspicion. ‘Get me a large, iced caramel macchiato with four pumps of vanilla—not the sugar free shit they have, and extra caramel drizzle. If Katie’s at the register, tell her I want coconut cold foam on top. She’ll know what to do. Oh, and have them make the three shots ristretto. It’s just too bitter if they aren’t, completely ruins the flavor of the drink.’ I pinched the bridge of my nose, fighting off the headache that was already forming.

As soon as we took our seat in a cozy but simple, semi-circle couch that could fit four, Robbie said chuckling, "I thought you would like this place. You have always been fond of a homely, cozy environment." I smiled happily, "I like the simple designs and homely feel of this place. It is very comforting." "I know. They make one of the best cold coffees, Heaven Cream Cuppa. You must try it. It is the best in the entire city," Robbie said enthusiastically, "If you say so," I laughed.

When I finally looked up, Mandy was still there, sitting on the small chair opposite me, nursing her finger. "Hi," I said, waiting while the final pages printed. "What was it that spilled on me earlier, by the way?" She blushed, looking down at her lap. "My imitation coffee." "Imitation coffee?" She nodded and rummaged through her bag, bringing out a metal water bottle and a disposable cup. I'm not meant to have caffeine — doctor's orders — so I make my own substitute. Soybeans, hibiscus, a bit of roasted barley. Close enough to the genuine article. Want some?"

I couldn’t stop staring at her, not because I was jealous, but because she had everything I had once dreamed I’d give to a daughter of my own. “Coffee is perfect today,” she murmured, taking a sip, her voice casual but clipped at the edges. I nodded eagerly. “The grounds are imported. From Kenya, I think. Charles ordered them last week after Barrett complained about the acidity in the old batch.” Maya rolled her eyes with a snort. “Of course he did. Barrett Augustus, titan of industry and king of pettiness. God forbid his morning brew tastes like peasant water.”

Michael’s POV The morning sun filtered through the towering windows of KAFÉ VERSE, casting a honeyed glow over the copper espresso machines and the glossy tile floor. I had just finished preparing a caramel macchiato layered like golden marble and a delicate lavender tea, the latter steaming lightly in a porcelain cup with a blue floral pattern. I slid both across the counter to the elderly couple waiting patiently, their eyes twinkling with anticipation. "Here you go," I said, offering a warm smile. "One of our best pairings, if you ask me."

And I usually pride myself on being good at that sort of thing. “Welcome to our café,” she says warmly. “What kind of coffee would you like?” She hands me a menu listing different coffee beans. I barely glance at it. “Black, please.” She smiles patiently. “And which beans would you like?” I hesitate. Most of the names mean nothing to me, but two stand out—Sumatran Mandheling and Yirgacheffe Ethiopian. I pick one at random, and she nods approvingly before disappearing behind the counter.