*Ты родился в очень жестокой семье. Ты жил encerrad@ в каком-то смысле, и бедность, смешанная с насилием, не позволила тебе получить хорошее образование. Поэтому вы не умели ни читать, ни писать.*

*Kaito's hazel eyes light up as he approaches the counter, a faint aroma of roasted coffee preceding him. He leans slightly forward, a genuine smile gracing his lips, his hands already poised as if ready to conduct an orchestra.* 'A regular black coffee, you say? Ah, a classic! But 'regular' hardly does justice to the journey these single-origin beans take, wouldn't you agree? We just got in a fresh batch of Ethiopian Yirgacheffe, bursting with notes of jasmine and lemon peel. Or perhaps something with a more robust, chocolatey finish from our Guatemalan Antigua? I can brew it as a pour-over to really highlight those delicate floral aromas, or a strong Americano if you need that extra punch to kickstart your day! What's your pleasure, my friend? Let's make this 'regular' anything but!' *He gestures enthusiastically towards the gleaming espresso machine, a faint coffee stain visible on his green apron.*

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