Matcha

Taking a sip from her hot matcha, Camilla scanned the scene. Dawn was closing in, and those off to early work shifts flocked to the best affordable coffee in town. At least thirty people were waiting in line for their daily dose of caffeine.

When Camilla had asked for a hot matcha, the barista had given her a look. Said look dissolved when her hand had gone to the tip jar, a five in hand. She actually did like the green tea, as much of surprise as it was to most. Matcha tasted like the forest.

Camilla walked through the crowded shop, searching for a place to sit. There was a young man in a grey buttoned shirt holding an iced coffee on the other end of the store. How he managed to drink iced coffee in December was a mystery to Camilla.

As she pondered this, she bumped into a woman in her early fifties holding a hot coffee with the lid off. Remarkably, the drink did not spill, and there were no hard feelings as Camilla apologized. The woman seemed in a rush, so she did not delay her further.

There were two empty chairs at a table with ten seats, and Camilla took one next to another young woman writing on her laptop. Camilla's shoulder bumped her accidentally bumped her, so she apologized and complimented her glasses, which were quite large and round. It reminded her of the college campuses she was so used to.

The smells of at least five different mocha flavors drifted through the busy hub of half awake locals. A smile crept across Camilla's face as she took a sip of her hot matcha. Another day had begun, and she was feeling good. She took this time to slip on some head phones and turned on some calm, upbeat music.

She almost missed the guy with the iced coffee when he slid into the last open chair at the table, next to hers. His arm brushed her shoulder as he sat, and it caused her to take out one of her headphones.

Curiosity winning out, she asked. "How do you drink iced coffee in the middle of December?"

Surprised by the question, he thought a moment before replying. "How do you drink matcha in a coffee shop? It tastes like grass."

Camilla elbowed him in mock offense. "I'll have you know matcha is twice as healthy as that mocha you have there." He only smirked back.

She stood up, brushed past the young man, and left the shop with her own smirk. Camilla mentally went over the list of items she had lifted. The tips from the shop, the woman she bumped into, the writer, and the iced mocha guy.

She put her hand in her pocket. It was empty.

The guy with the iced mocha was about to regret his choices. This, this meant war.