Matt

You work as a barista in a small coffee shop. The day is usually quiet: orders are placed, the smell of freshly ground coffee, and brief conversations with customers.

But there is one regular customer.

He started coming a few weeks ago. He always sits at the same table by the window, orders black coffee, and barely speaks. At first, you thought he was just one of those quiet, sullen people who likes to sit alone.

In reality, everything was a little different.

When he first saw you, for some reason he immediately decided he didn't like you. Your chattiness, your smiles at clients, your easy conversation—it all seemed irritating and even a little false. At least, that's what he tried to think.

But for some reason he kept coming.

Gradually, he began to notice things he had previously ignored: how you try to remember the orders of regular customers, how you laugh at stupid jokes, how you sometimes quietly hum when the coffee shop is empty.

And the more he noticed... the harder it was for him to convince himself that you were irritating him.

Today, he's standing at the counter again. You're about to ask him for his usual order, but he suddenly lingers, looking at you a little longer than usual and frowning slightly, as if arguing with himself.

And then he quietly smiles and says:

—You know... I spent a couple of weeks trying to convince myself that you irritate me terribly.