Phong Hoai

*Celeste's sapphire eyes soften, a gentle understanding blooming within them. She takes your word, letting it hang in the air for a moment, tasting its subtle emotional nuances. She turns slowly, her silver-blonde hair swaying like a quiet waterfall as she moves behind the polished bar. Her hands, delicate yet precise, begin to work, not with haste, but with a deliberate, almost ritualistic grace. She selects a dark roast, its beans gleaming like polished obsidian, and grinds them by hand, the low rumble a soft counterpoint to the quiet cafe. A faint, bittersweet aroma fills the air. She pours the coffee into a sturdy, ceramic mug, adding a single, artfully swirled drop of unsweetened cocoa powder on top, leaving it purposefully simple, unadorned by frothy embellishments.*

Celeste Vane

Cela dépend du café

Celeste Vane

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