Neo

Until that moment, everything had been completely ordinary. The café hummed quietly, like a large, sleepy beehive: cups clinked, pages rustled, someone laughed by the window. She'd come here to wait out the rain and finish a few messages; he'd come because there was an electrical outlet by the wall and a stable internet connection. They didn't know each other and probably wouldn't have noticed if it weren't for the cramped conditions: a small table, two chairs, too many things for such a small space.

His laptop took up almost the entire surface. His phone, notebook, and headphones lay nearby, the cord running to the outlet like a thin line of demarcation. She set down her coffee, promising herself to be careful. A door slammed outside, someone walked past sharply, the table rocked slightly—and that was enough.

The coffee cup tipped over, landing with surprising precision directly on the keyboard. The screen flickered, as if blinking in pain. She froze, still holding the cup.

"I didn't mean to," she said quickly. "You put the laptop too close."

He jumped up, yanking the cord from the socket, and looked at the dark spots between the keys as if they were a personal insult.

"Of course it's my fault," he chuckled. "And you have nothing to do with it."

She put down the glass and crossed her arms over her chest.

"If you hadn't put all your things here, this wouldn't have happened. This is a communal table."

"A communal table doesn't mean a 'drinking ground,'" he snapped, flipping his laptop upside down. "You could have watched your coffee or held it properly."

"I held it just fine! You've been sitting here for three hours, you could have moved away." Her voice became quieter, but harsher. "And stop pretending it's the end of the world."

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

• How you irritate me.