"She doesn't sleeps all night. She eats junk food and binges shows. I swear to lord, everytime I meet her, she has something new to obsess over. She wakes up at one! I know, right? And drinks her morning tea till three. If I had parents like hers I wouldn't end up being such a disgraceful child!"
"Woah, woah bro."
"Yeah! I was talking to my cupcake you see—"
"Woah, woah, not your cupcake."
"—yeah, yeah don't make me blush! I couldn't talk to him all day yesterday and he was so sad about it! He would talk back to me!"
"Woah, woah, not sad."
"Yeah! I had this wedding to attend to and you know how weddings are! I was so busy the entirety of it!"
"Woah, woah, not a wedding."
"Yes! But then I cuddled him all night and held him in my arms and fed him with my hands. He was so happy after that!"
My brows push together in a concerned frown and I stare hard at the back of this girl's head, hoping she would feel my confused glare. For the past fifteen minutes, after getting on the bus, she has been going on and on all about her life and family in the most intriguing of conversations I have eavesdropped in a while.
It was an occupational defect, considering as a journalist I always wanted to scurry for content.
"Woah, woah, not spoon feeding! You're ruining him."
I must confess, I did not think the other woman was capable of anymore words.
"Oh once in a while isn't all that bad! And we cuddled all night long, probably, I don't know. I slept too soon and he wasn't there when I woke up."
"Woah woah, good enough! What happened to the other one? Your last one?"
Ohh an ex? I wonder.
"Ah! He died! I went to a field trip for a few days and he felt so betrayed and abandoned by me that he wouldn't eat! I tried video calling but we were in the mountains and the signal was bad. He ended up dying of starvation."
"Woah wo—"
"What the fuck?!" I snap, grabbing a hold of their seats and leaning over their shoulders to press my face in between them. "Your ex boyfriend starved himself to death?! Had he no life?!"
"—oah, who the heck are you?"
"Someone who is very interested in the plot, go on please," I urge, eyes wide and bright, asking her to continue.
"But I'm talking about my pet parrot though...did you really think I was talking about a person...?" She frowns as her friend laughs, throwing her head back and hitting the bus window.
I purse my lips in mortification and blink as I stand up and press the emergency exit bell. "This has been a nice chat, have yourselves a good day, ladies," I tip a fictional hat in greeting and run out of the vehicle before mortification could catch up to me and suck me dry.
Though, as soon as the bus leaves, I burst out a shout.
"UGH! THAT WAS SO CRINGE!! WHY DID I HAVE TO POKE MY HEAD IN AND SAY ANYTHING! I HATE THIS!" I yelp out loud, earning curious glances and quick glares from the passerbys.
Ah.
At this point, I'm ready for death. Have me, with my arms open, and kill me for real this time.
I sniffle, crossing my hands over my chest to subtly not subtly hide the monogram of my school. But the monogram was right over my left bust, so I looked like a ridiculous person hugging their breasts in public.
One voice in my head insists that I take it off, while the other scolds the first for it was too cold to roam around in a white shirt.
The rain had died down to a drizzle, caressing more than punishing now, and I open up my GPS to lead me to Moonbucks as quick as possible. It's not all that far, luckily and I report to duty with three minutes to spare.
Moonbucks looks too real around me to be a fictional place, with its seamless fusion of retro aesthetics and celestial elements. The walls are adorned with cosmic murals, depicting breathtaking lunar landscapes, sparkling starscapes, and swirling galaxies.
I gape in awe at the ceiling infused with luminescent LED lights, projecting a warm, ethereal glow, mimicking the soft radiance of moonlight. Around the ceilings are all twelve constellations, embossed and spread over the expanse of the roof.
This place would be an astrology girl's wet dream.
Customers are seated on chairs with iridescent hues and tables crafted from materials that mimic the surfaces of distant planets, reflecting their colors and textures. Somebody built it on a budget, I sniffle, walking up to the counter.
It stretches across the room, fashioned from a luminescent, polished lunar rock that seems to emanate a faint, calming energy. I'd know because my little sister was into collecting rocks. Behind it, baristas dressed in elegant dresses and pant-suit uniforms are busy crafting heavenly smelling concoctions. Esoteric coffee-making apparatuses, adorned with celestial engravings, hum with life as they brew the beverages.
I knock my knuckle against the counter to establish my presence since all the order counters were busy dealing with customers.
"Hey," I call out in hopes that an extrovert would recognise me and adopt me for the rest of my time here.
"Oh! Haai! Winster," a man scrunches his nose and waves to me, "A drenching morning, I see. We're still bustling as ever. Get on with a change and take Alicia's place, please."
I nod, mustering a diplomatic smile, "Yeah, um, okay, thanks!"
He's tall, quite well dressed in a fitting black suit with his soft brown hair pushed back with gel. I cannot help but notice how much every barista puts in their presence in this place. From immaculately metallic painted nails to every strand of hair sticking in place with gel, be it a quiff or a pin straight ponytail.
It couldn't be... because of the sexy, hot, barista and the cafe-romance trope going around for the past few years— COULD IT?!
I stay still, wondering how much more superficial the authoress could have gotten— when suddenly a plot point hits me.
Of course! The first conflict! Outside the cafe house! The incessant rain! It all makes sense!
HOW COULD IT TAKE ME SO LONG TO SPOT IT?!
The barista tries flirting with the female lead and the male lead gets all jealous and pulls her out. The female lead calls him out for his double standards and shouts, 'Hypocrite,' in his face because he keeps hanging out with girls at school and never pays her any attention.
They fight, they kiss. She slaps him, they ghost eachother into an angst trope.
"Well fuck, why is my character always so close to conflict?" I scowl.
"Huh?" The man questions out loud, pushing his brows up.
"Huh?" I wonder back, wondering what he is wondering about.
"Is everything okay at home? You're acting weird," he leans in and claims. I see that his name-tag reads Rigel. I shrug, taking a step back. Am I supposed to know him!?
"Everything's great..." I smile a little too enthusiastically. His face bares no reaction, so I hastily add, "As it can be, of course!"
"You had me scared the other night, on your phone call, I was worried sick. Who did you get so drunk with? I had to pick you out of a literal trash can!" He exclaims, properly scandalised as I was.
My character has drinking problems as well?!
I laugh awkwardly, shuffling my feet as my brain races a mile a minute. "Oh it was nothing, sorry for the bother. I was wondering who took me home that night—"
"I never took you home." He deadpans. I break into cold sweat.
"Well shit, another mystery for another time, I guess!" I wave a hand in his face and rush toward the EMPLOYEES ONLY room. What has this woman been doing, calling colleagues while drunk and passing out in bins?!
No wonder I smelt like I died and rotted for ten days when I had woken up with this body.
I wonder what happened to her.