"Ow!" Wisdom shouted as the hot coffee split over his hand. Quickly, he washed his hands off in the sink.

"Wisdom, two lattes, one cappuccino. I'll handle the espresso," his manager shouted.

"One expresso?" Wisdom thought mildly annoyed, as if that's hard to do. But it's not like he would dare say that to his face.

"Yes sir!" Wisdom replied, sweat beginning to trickle down his face as steam filled the air and smoke irritated his eyes.

He had only been working at the coffee shop for a month, but despite the occasional slip-up, he had been doing well. He didn't let the small mistakes affect him.

"Okay," Wisdom muttered to himself as he picked up the pace, grinding coffee beans and meticulously following customers' picky orders.

The line seemed endless, each customer more demanding than the last. His hands moved on autopilot, a blur of motion as he frothed milk, filled cups, and navigated the cacophony of voices clamouring for attention. Time dragged each minute feeling like an hour.

But finally, after what felt like an eternity, the rush hour ended. Wisdom exhaled deeply, feeling a wave of relief wash over him now that the hectic period had finally passed.

As he savored the calm, his manager approached, a hint of a smile on his face. "Well done, Wisdom. That was a tough shift."

"Thanks," Wisdom replied, his smile mirroring the manager's. "It was intense."

His manager glanced at the clock and then back at Wisdom. "I'm going to head out now. You should be able to handle the rest of the evening, right?"

"Yes, sir!" Wisdom responded with enthusiasm.

The manager chuckled softly. "You know you don't have to call me 'sir' all the time. I'm not that old."

"Sorry, Si—" Wisdom quickly stopped himself, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

His manager chuckled again and waved goodbye as he left.

Despite working there for a month, Wisdom still didn't know his manager's name—a fact he could never admit. He shook his head, smiling to himself as he wiped down the counter.

As he cleaned, Wisdom's gaze wandered around the cafe, taking in the familiar faces of regulars who were now leaving. His eyes settled on a girl sitting by the window, her face illuminated by the glow of her laptop. She was a regular, always looking distraught as if battling something unseen.

During his short time at the coffee shop on Elm Street, Wisdom had found himself intrigued by her. He had never spoken to her, but she had a peculiar habit that caught his attention: ordering a cup of coffee with three sugars, taking a single sip, and leaving it untouched until it went cold. This had been her routine for a week straight, and Wisdom couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity.

Unsure what came over him, Wisdom felt compelled to do something. He went behind the coffee machine and brewed a fresh cup of coffee, the noise of the machine seeming quieter than usual. He added her three sugars and carried the cup over to her spot by the window.

As he approached, he noticed her eyes wandering out the window, lost in thought. Placing the steaming cup gently on the table, he stepped back and waited.

It took a moment, but eventually, she turned her gaze from the window back to her laptop, and then to the unexpected coffee. Confusion flickered in her eyes as she looked up at him. "I didn't pay for this," she said softly, her voice tinged with hesitation.

Wisdom flashed a reassuring smile. "It's on the house. And technically, you did," he said with a chuckle, pointing to the cold cup of coffee she had barely touched.

She looked at him, her cheeks flushing slightly. She had often worried that paying for something she didn't drink was rude as if she was using the coffee shop merely for its atmosphere. Which, in truth, was exactly what she was doing.

A slight awkwardness filled the space between them, making Wisdom question what he was even doing. He fidgeted with a cloth, wiping down the already clean table beside hers.

"Well, there's no going back now," Wisdom thought before speaking up. "So, I meant to ask, what are you doing on your laptop all day? You seem to be irritated whenever I see you," he asked as he began tidying up the store, gathering chairs from outside and wiping down tables.

As the words left his mouth, Wisdom suddenly realized how it sounded—like he had been watching her every day. "Meant to ask??? I practically admitted to watching her," he thought, ridiculing himself. His self-consciousness caused his hand to tremble, and he accidentally knocked a teaspoon off the edge of the table.

He quickly picked it up, trying to act as if nothing had happened.

The girl hesitated for a moment, then let out a small laugh at what she had witnessed. The tension between them eased. "It's an assignment for Memphis College," she finally said. "It's called 'The Meaning of a Mask.'" She glanced at her laptop screen, frustration flickering across her face.

"Hey it rude to laugh at people you know" Wisdom said in a joking manner, however still being a bit embarrassed

She smiled, beginning to laugh again. "Sorry, I couldn't help it. You have to admit it was kind of funny."

Wisdom smiled back as he continued wiping down the table beside her. "Yeah, whatever," he said, still feeling a bit embarrassed.

Intrigued by her mention of Memphis College, he asked, "May I see this assignment?"

She turned her head to him, a playful look in her eyes. "And are you going to keep cleaning that table all night?" she teased, laughing again.

Wisdom blinked, realizing he'd been wiping the same spot for a while now. "Oh, right," he said, chuckling as he set the cloth aside. "I guess I got a little carried away."

Going back to his question, she shook her head. "Maybe when I finish it," she replied, her tone more playful than dismissive.

Quickly changing the topic, she continued, "But that's not the real problem. The actual reason I'm here is that I'm stuck. I'm trying to write a book, but I don't understand my characters."

Wisdom's interest deepened. "Well, can I see that?" he asked, his tone still gentle and filled with genuine curiosity.

She thought for a moment before nodding. "Okay, then," she said, making space for him to sit next to her.

Wisdom took a seat beside her and began reading the document on her screen. As he read, his face twisted in concentration. He had seen struggling writers before, but this was different.

"Hmm," he said thoughtfully, "there's a lot of creativity here. Your ideas are really interesting."

Freya looked at him, slightly hopeful. "But…?"

Wisdom hesitated, trying to find the right words. "Your writing style needs some work. It's not bad because you lack creativity or good ideas—those are the hardest parts, and you've nailed them. It's just that the execution could use some polishing."

There was a brief silence. Freya's head drooped slightly. "I know, but I really want to finish it. I have to."

Wisdom looked at her, sensing her deep frustration and desire to improve. He glanced back at the screen and sighed. "This section here," he pointed, "try changing the perspective. And here," he pointed to a different part, "instead of telling how they feel, show how they feel. It adds more depth."

She looked at him, surprised. What he said was simple, yet insightful. She could tell by his demeanour that he knew what he was talking about. As he continued to explain, she noticed how young he looked, possibly around her age, yet he spoke with the Wisdom and experience of someone much older.

"Yes, your writing needs improvement," he reiterated gently, "but your ideas are solid. Don't give up. You have the hard part down—now it's just about refining your technique."

She listened, still in shock by his candid feedback but also feeling a spark of motivation. "Okay!" she said, her tone more determined.

"Sorry if I came across as harsh," Wisdom added. "Have you written books before or have any experience? And do you think I'm rude?" he asked, a teasing glint in his eye.

Freya laughed, her previous apprehension fading. "Maybe just a little," she teased back. "But I can see you mean well. Thanks for the advice. And no, I haven't written anything serious before. This is my first attempt."

Wisdom nodded. "Everyone starts somewhere. Keep going—you've got something good here."

As the evening wore on, Wisdom finished cleaning the shop. Freya closed her laptop and gathered her things, preparing to leave. As they walked towards the door, Wisdom realized something.

"I just realized, I never asked your name," he said, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Freya," she replied, laughing lightly.

"Nice to meet you, Freya. I'm Wisdom," he said, extending his hand with a smile.

Freya laughed again. "Wisdom, huh? I should have guessed. You do seem pretty insightful."

Wisdom laughed too, but then his expression grew somber, a shadow passing over his face. Freya noticed the change and raised an eyebrow.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her tone shifting to concern.

He hesitated for a moment, then whispered almost to himself, "I'm not wise at all."

Freya looked at him, surprised by his vulnerability. "Hey, everyone has doubts," she said softly. "But you've helped me a lot tonight. That's something."

Wisdom gave her a small, grateful smile. "Thanks, Freya. I appreciate that."

They stood in a comfortable silence for a moment before Wisdom spoke again. "I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, definitely," Freya said, smiling warmly as she left.

Wisdom watched her go, feeling a bit lighter. He locked up the shop and stepped into the night, pondering the unexpected connection he had made.

When Freya arrived home, her parents greeted her warmly. "How was your day, sweetie?" her mom asked, concern and affection in her voice.

"It was amazing, but I have work to do, you know, college stuff," Freya replied with a smile.

Her dad nodded understandingly. "Of course, we're here if you need anything."

Freya retreated to her room, thoughts of Wisdom lingering in her mind. She sat at her desk and opened her laptop to work on her assignment, "The Meaning of a Mask." As she typed, she couldn't shake the image of Wisdom's earnest expression and his gentle guidance.

Reflecting on their conversation, she found herself writing not just about masks, but about understanding and empathy. Each word seemed to flow effortlessly from her thoughts to the screen, inspired by the brief but impactful connection she had made.

After completing her assignment, she leaned back in her chair, feeling a mix of contentment and curiosity. She wasn't ready for sleep just yet. Instead, she opened a new document and began to write about Wisdom—his honesty, his insecurities, and the Wisdom beyond the years that he carried with him.

With each sentence, Freya realized that her understanding of human emotions had deepened. The encounter had sparked something within her, a newfound clarity and appreciation for the complexities of people's inner worlds.

Finally, as the clock ticked past midnight, Freya felt a sense of fulfilment wash over her. Closing her laptop, she knew she had captured something special in her writing today, something that went beyond the academic assignment.

She smiled to herself, ready to rest. Tonight, her dreams would be filled with thoughts of masks and the profound connections they symbolized.