In a quiet Cafe, stood the barista with his forearms pressed tiredly onto the counter, his eyes fluttering desperately in an attempt to stay closed. The dawn peeked over the horizon through the glass windows, like golden irises opening from an ancient slumber. Despite working at what is essentially a fuel station for people, James was utterly slumped over his workstation, exhausted from simply being there for so long.
And so there he was, working graveyard shifts night in and night out. And there she was.
She pressed the wooden framed door, chiming as she lingered it, foot by foot; slowly, as to make the moment last as long as humanely possible. She leaned past the counter and pecked James on the cheek; her perky attitude lights up at least some parts of the café. She hands him an assortment of keys and caresses his hand gently, James smiled softly with drooping eyes. He waves anxiously as he leaves.
This was the highlight of his night; this was the highlight of her day.