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When Reze lost her memories, she remembered the taste of coffee. Slightly bitter and robust.
Her social worker asked to meet at a small café near an alleyway, and she thought it was a nice idea. She had never met the man before, but considering the café was empty and there was only one blonde person inside, she waved and smiled at him.
The blonde was sitting by the window, wearing a crisp white shirt and staring at an empty cup. He didn’t seem to notice her.
His cup was stained with something dark. Somehow, she didn’t dare assume it was coffee. It almost looked like dark tea. It smelled like Earl Grey too. Yeah, she had amnesia, but her nose could still tell the difference between Arabica and Robusta. That drink was neither.
“Are you waiting for me?” Reze asked, waving at the man.
He finally stopped staring at his cup. His brown eyes met her emerald ones, and he looked almost dead. His gaze was so gloomy that she could only guess someone important to him had recently passed away.
“I’m Reze,” she said. “Are you my social worker? I’m one of the hybrids who lost her memory.”
“Sorry, I’m here for someone else.” The blond man with warm hazel eyes smiled bitterly at her.
“Ah, right.” She nodded and pointed to the empty seat beside him. “Is this seat taken?”
“No, please, help yourself.”
He wore that bitter smile again.
She waved at the waitress. “Miss, one flat white, please!”
“Coming right up!” the waitress shouted from the counter.
Reze opened her satchel and tied her violet hair into a bun. She picked up a book still wrapped in protective plastic, catching her reflection in its glossy cover. Her emerald eyes lingered on the title, and she smiled.
REZE’S DIARY
She opened it and began to write.
Dear Diary,
I’m so excited to have coffee again. I love it so much. I don’t see how anyone could hate coffee! It's the best thing ever invented!
The man beside her laughed as he read over her shoulder.
“Hey! That’s a violation of privacy!” she chuckled, snapping the diary shut.
“Sorry. God, this is one of those days where I wish I couldn’t actually read.” He looked away and absentmindedly scratched his hair.
She could only see his blond hair and calloused hands. Maybe he worked in construction? She wondered if he found it funny because he hated coffee. He looked like the kind of British guy who preferred tea.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make fun of people who hate coffee!”
“Oh, it’s fine. I just…” He hesitated. “I find them bitter.”
He was still looking away.
Maybe she had offended him. After a moment, though, he looked back at her. His brown eyes met her emerald ones again.
“Right.” She nodded, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Sorry about that. Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I’m going to work as a barista at a café in Ueno. I’d put coffee at the bottom of the menu if you ever visit.”
“Here’s your flat white.” The waitress set the cup down, and Reze smiled.
“This smells so good!” She inhaled deeply and tilted the cup.
The heart-shaped latte art shifted gently.
After a while, the waitress leaned closer and smiled. “You know… you look familiar. Like that actress in that romance film. I can’t remember the name.”
Suddenly, the man spoke again.
“The one where she died in an alleyway?”
He was still staring out the window. Rain had started pouring down so hard that Reze could barely see anything—just white streaks blurring the glass.
“Yes! That one!” the waitress exclaimed. “You look just like her! You should be an idol or actress. Gosh, you’re so pretty!”
Reze waved her hand and laughed. “Thank you! That’s so sweet, especially coming from someone so beautiful too.”
The waitress left with a wide grin. Reze sipped her flat white and smiled bitterly. The man assigned to her had said the same thing—that she’d be wasting her looks if she didn’t use them.
“I want to be a barista, though,” she muttered, taking another sip.
“You should be a barista then.” The man beside her nudged his cup, still facing away. “You’d be a good one.”
She froze.
He sounded sincere.
This time, he turned from the window. The rain had eased. When he faced her, his expression held something she could only describe as longing... for something, or someone.
He smiled bitterly again. “We could die anytime, so choose the job you actually enjoy, I guess.”
Death wasn’t something she associated with coffee. Still, he had a point.
“You’re right.” Reze smiled warmly. “I should enjoy the little things in life before my time here ends.”
“Yeah.” He looked away again.
“I lost my memory, so… I don’t know what I want to do besides brewing coffee.”
“You could go to an aquarium,” he said softly. “Maybe meet some penguins.” He chuckled. “Or watch a movie with someone you love.”
“That sounds nice. I don’t remember if I ever fell in love… or what it felt like,” Reze hummed.
The man nearly dropped his cup, but caught it just in time. His fingertip trembled.
“The first one hurts,” he said quietly. “But trust me—it gets better.”
Reze tilted her head, trying to see his expression. She wondered who had hurt him like that.
“I’m sorry you went through something so painful,” she said softly.
“That’s okay,” he replied. “I’m just glad she’s happy out there somewhere.”
Reze smiled gently. “I’m sure she hopes you’re happy too.”
He froze, then stood abruptly as his phone rang. He answered immediately.
“Asa?” His voice brightened. “Yeah. I’ll be right there.”
He waved at Reze. “It was nice meeting you. I hope you live a good life.”
“You too,” she waved back. “I hope you live a good life too, stranger.”
She never learned his name or who he really was. Maybe she’d never meet him again.
But he was interesting.
He believed she could be a good barista. No one else did.
Yes. Reze would live a good life.
She would be a good barista.