The espresso machine across the counter hissed, a sharp, violent burst of steam that briefly masked the low, constant hum of the café's air conditioning.
Galathea Brooks stared at the plastic lid of her Americano, her fingers wrapped loosely around the cardboard sleeve. The café sat directly across the street from Artemis Tower. The scent of roasted beans and sanitized counters usually grounded her-- a sterile, predictable scene that was a stark contrast from what her life had been lately.
Cael Alexander was off early this morning, checking on a warehouse that could possibly end in a huge deal. Galathea wanted to sleep in, and now she's drinking coffee from a disposable cup instead of a gilded one.
She took a sip, her mind already organizing the acquisition files waiting on her desk.
"He stood exactly where you're sitting, you know."
Galathea's cup stayed on her lip as she froze.
