Work Text:
Inej Ghafa found her peace in silence – in the unuttered words and comfortable quiet. She wished to remain unseen, unheard and unperceived. She religiously wrapped herself in black clothing as if it were a protective veil from prying eyes and watched – always watched – but never allowed herself to be seen. She would never spark a conversation with a stranger or speak unless absolutely necessary. Every sentence that she did deem important enough to voice was perfectly clipped to just the essentials – carefully curated to contain the least words with the most impact. Inej did not enjoy small talk.
The new barista in Inej’s favourite coffee shop – Kirigan’s Koffee – spoke too much. She was all easy laughter and toothy smiles as she took Inej’s order. She did not seem to stop for breath as she danced about the small area behind the counter, jumping from machine to fridge to machine to cupboard to machine to counter as if it were some synchronised dance all while maintaining consistent chatter. If anything, she seemed to take Inej’s prolonged silence – which had discouraged many in the past from attempting small talk – as encouragement to talk more.
Inej didn’t even particularly like the coffee here. In fact, now she thought about it, eyes staring into the dark brown – almost black – eyes of the barista, she hated this place. Hated the old, dusty decorations, the burnt smell of coffee grounds and even the boss, who she had ascertained from the name of the shop was called Kirigan, who sometimes stood, leaned against the back wall of the shop and eerily observed the baristas too closely for Inej’s liking.
The truth was that Inej frequented this coffee shop because no one made conversation past her coffee order. Truthfully, the whole place seemed to be enveloped in a feeling of darkness that Inej couldn’t quite understand. It made her feel uneasy but as long as she received her iced americano every morning with nothing more than a silent, polite nod, she did not care.
The new barista had not received the memo it seemed.
‘…and that’s the thing,’ Inej realised the barista was still speaking and couldn’t help but raise a quizzical eyebrow at the girl. ‘I’m like totally not even good at this whole making coffee thing – like yeah – I guess I have some experience because I used to help out at church events and so like putting food on a plate, got it, and like pouring some hot water on a tea bag, got it. But like I can barely work this espresso machine, it’s scary and honestly, sometimes it makes really inhuman noises. Like, as if a tiny little man were trapped inside it. Anyway, so I come for the job interview and the boss – Kirigan he’s called – he’s all like “Alina, you’re perfect for this place. We need someone like you. We’re going to revolutionise the coffee business together.” and I was like super confused by that, you know, because I’d like just met him and honestly, he was giving me the creeps. Anyway, the point I’m trying to make is that this is only like the tenth coffee I’ve made using this machine so if it’s bad then you know why.”
Inej blinked. The girl – Alina – now stood in front of her, grin wide and jet-black eyes burning into hers. Her arm was outstretched in front of her, fingers gripped around an iced americano.
‘I’m sure it will be fine.’ Inej managed the clipped sentence of encouragement and delicately raised her hand to receive the coffee. Her fingers had barely made contact with the plastic surface before Alina had placed it back to the table, panic seeming to ignite in her expression.
‘Fuck,’ she hissed and dropped to her knees behind the counter. ‘I forgot to put your name on the cup.’
Inej stood there, almost taken aback by the energy this girl seemed to possess as she heard shuffling behind the counter. Her very presence seemed to light up the dark coffee shop like a sunbeam. Alina resurfaced a few moments later, victoriously holding up a black marker pen between her fingers. ‘Found it!’ She exclaimed excitedly and shot Inej an easy wink. Inej momentarily felt light-headed.
‘Well then,’ Alina said expectantly. ‘Who am I signing this terrible coffee to? It’s first edition you know, it’ll be worth a fortune one day.’
Inej couldn’t help but feel puzzled. Couldn’t help the small smile that painted her lips or the easy tone of her voice when she revealed her name to the barista.
‘I love that name,’ Alina cooed, and her face lit up appreciatively. “Inej. Inej. Inej. I’ll remember that, I mean, I hope you’re a regular.’ She once again raised the coffee out towards Inej and she took it into her own hands. She offered a polite smile and turned on her heel to leave the shop, navigating her way around the sea of dusty, old furniture. Only after the tell-tale ring of the bell behind her as the door fell shut did Inej seem to snap to her senses, taking in the scene of the street around her. It was only then did she loosen a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding the entire time.
As she continued on her commute to work, she tried not to let her mind wonder to the new barista or the way her voice sounded soothing like the feeling of sun on bare skin or the way her onyx black eyes seemed to sparkle, as if reflecting light, or even how when she’d repeated her name – Inej Inej Inej – it had sounded like a prayer, like something holy. Sacred.
Despite her best efforts, she could not erase the girl from her mind, could not help returning to the coffee shop everyday just to remain in silence as Alina spoke the entire time, her words dripping with honeyed gold, piercing the veil of silence Inej had drawn around herself.
Terrible coffee, she thought, was a small price to pay to finally feel the sun on her skin.