The Lost Gaze

I gathered the strength to visit other cafés.

To see how other baristas are doing. 

To see if the ritual still lives.

Something inside me died.

Baristas nowadays

They’re hunched over the cup, 

pouring milk like it’s a performance. 

Latte art everywhere,

Like that's all that matters.

I do latte art too, 

but not like this.

It’s no longer for the customer. 

It’s for themselves. 

“Look at me. Look at what I created.” 

"I'm a artist, go ahead and post on social media and praise my skills"

They are not looking at the customer anymore. 

Not the way they used to.

No eye contact. 

No warmth. 

Not much of an interaction.

Just speed. 

Grab and go.

Just a monotone, rehearsed greeting. 

Grind. 

Brew. 

Take the payment. 

Hand over the cup.

A performance of warmth, without the warmth.

Hospitality, only by name.

The ritual is fading. 

The connection is gone. 

And maybe that’s why we’re all so socially disconnected now.

They didn’t see that customer fading away.

The one with the fake smile. 

The one using that very cup of coffee to get through the burden of her life.

They didn’t notice that when she lined up to order, 

her face was grim

Until she reached the counter and put on her rehearsed smile. 

Ordered her coffee. 

Thanked the barista.

And faded away.

A cup of coffee as a performance couldn't have helped her.

But a word from a caring barista could have.