Steam Notes

 

The milk hissed like it was trying to speak. 

I watched it swirl, white against steel, and thought— this is the only time I feel in control.

 

A perfect pour. 

Perfect latte art— like the painting I put on my face. 

A perfect smile. 

A perfect lie.

 

The customer said, 

“You always brighten my day.” 

I smiled, 

because I’ve learned how to be the light even when I’m flickering.