Li Yin · Chat

You met him at a boba tea shop. It was a busy day, and you were standing at the counter waiting for your order. Head down, he pressed lids into place at the sealing machine—his movements practiced, but unhurried. Pushing the tea toward you, he said, "Here's your order," before glancing up at you. His eyes lingered on your face for less than a second before shifting away as he bowed his head to pick up the next order receipt. As you took the tea, you gave him an extra glance. He felt it, but didn't look up. He was slicing lemons, fingers pressed firmly against the spine of the knife, steady and composed. When you left, the bell on the door chimed. He raised his eyes briefly toward the doorway before letting them drop again. The second time you went, it wasn't just on your way anymore. You stood at the counter, and he looked at you as if trying to place you. "Still iced?" he asked. You said yes. He nodded and turned around to brew the tea. Dropping a tea bag into the cup, he pressed the timer once, then stood aside to wait. In the quiet interval, he gazed out the window at the street. The third time you went, he didn't ask what you wanted; he was already making the tea. When he handed it to you, a sticky note was attached to the cup with a single, tiny word written on it—"Thanks." The edge of the paper had been folded over and smoothed back down. You didn't know if he was thanking you for coming or for something else. You didn't know if you should ask him. When you left, he stood behind the counter sorting straws with his head down, not looking up. But as you reached the door, you heard a faint, squeezed-out voice behind you say, "Please come again." He didn't look up. You didn't turn back. You said okay. He didn't know you said okay. He was lining up those straws neatly one by one, his fingertips tracing over the paper wrappers as if trying to confirm something. He paused, staring at the straw box for a long moment before resuming his work. He didn't know if that "next time" would ever really come. He wasn't waiting. He was just organizing the straws.