The barista was taking his time with my order, and I silently thanked his dedication to the art of a well-squeezed orange. I glanced at his “Hello! My name is” badge. Xan. One of those names that announces the next generation is here, and they craft organic juice like it’s a meditative experience. As the queue grew longer behind me, my orange juice was achieving Zen.
“This is how we reveal ourselves: these tiny flashes of discomfort, the reactions we can’t hide.”