The next day, as her alarm blasted, Mia clumsily reached out to turn it off. She plopped back down onto her pillow and stared at the sunlight streaming through her windows, feeling exhausted. The routine of going into The Daily Post had been exciting at first, even enjoyable, but now, after almost two years in the same job, she felt burnt out.
She stretched, forcing herself to get up and get ready for the day. As she started her morning routine, the events of the previous day came flooding back—Andrew Weston, of all people, showing up at her workplace, out of the blue and thoroughly unwelcome.
She shook her head, the realization washing over her that yesterday was not just a bad dream. It happened, and she would have to see him again today, tomorrow, and the day after that. She was stuck. But last night, she had decided not to let Andrew's presence derail her life.
Back in their university days at the school paper, Mia and Andrew had always been neck and neck for the same stories. Both assigned to features, the assignments were scarce but interesting enough to spark a fierce competition. They'd constantly try to one-up each other, whether it was nabbing the lead story or scoring the best quotes. Even when it came to internships, it was always Mia versus Andrew, their rivalry as relentless as it was infuriating. Sometimes she got ahead, sometimes he did, but she never felt she truly won. And she especially felt like she lost after that one night she and Andrew were left alone in the school paper newsroom together.
She shook her head trying to cut her train of thought off. After a series of internal monologues and pep talks, she managed to get herself up and dressed. As she headed out of her apartment, she made a conscious effort to push away the negative thoughts of work and Andrew, focusing instead on one of the most exciting parts of her day—her morning coffee ritual.
Mia had always been a coffee person. Growing up in a household where coffee was constantly brewing, it was a given that coffee would be a significant part of her life. So, it might sound silly, but having a routine of getting her morning pastry and first cup of coffee from a small, cozy coffee shop that had become her go-to place was like a little dream come true. It was the one part of her life she felt was perfect.
The Alley, the coffee shop in question, was a block down from her apartment. It made the best coffee—the kind that made her insides sing at the first sip—and had the perfect atmosphere: quiet but not too quiet, with plain, borderline brutalist interiors. She walked in, ready and eager for her first cup of the day, only to feel as if the universe was laughing at her. There, sitting at one of the tables reading the paper, was Andrew. Of course. What were the chances?