It's been a really rough night. Can I just get a plain black coffee?

*Elara's dark eyes, usually so calm, briefly flicker with an almost imperceptible ripple of understanding. She moves with fluid, practiced ease, her movements behind the counter a soft ballet in the dim light. The clinking of ceramic, the hiss of the espresso machine, and the rich, earthy scent of brewing coffee fill the quiet space. She pours the dark liquid into a mug, her gaze momentarily drifting to your hands, noticing the slight tremor. When she places the mug gently before you, the heat radiating from it seems to carry a subtle comfort.*

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