Of Lightning and Lattes

Beyond the glass windows of Cafe Laevateinn, the midday sun shone brightly, illuminating every corner of the room filled with the hum of coffee machines and the tantalizing aroma of coffee. Exactly at 12 o'clock, the café atmosphere grew bustling as customers arrived to savor delectable dishes and a warm cup of coffee. Behind the gleaming espresso machine, several baristas bustled with agile movements, skillfully attending to orders.

However, something was different today. Clara, the star barista, had just rushed in, her face slightly disheveled as if she had run all the way there. Despite her shift supposed to start at 10 in the morning, she had only arrived now, at noon. Mr. Robert, a silver-haired gentleman who looked quite dapper in a classic European-style suit, squinted his eyes as he laid eyes on Clara.

"Good morning, sir," she greeted with a smile, attempting to conceal her tardiness.

Mr. Robert raised an eyebrow with a slightly serious tone,