By the next morning, Milo discovered the first effects of the Eclipse Blend's ripple in the city. Through news articles, whispers on the streets, and frantic phone calls from acquaintances, he learned that subtle chaos was spreading. Businesses closed overnight. Small accidents compounded into larger disasters. Ordinary lives were suddenly full of confusion, fear, and uncertainty.
A young man appeared at the café, trembling, eyes wide. "I… I drank something wrong," he stammered. "Now… everything is confusing. I see too much. Too many possibilities. I can't focus. I… I don't know which choice is mine."
Milo's chest tightened. This was the kind of crisis he had been trying to prevent. Each drink had rules; the Eclipse Blend had none. He guided the young man to a corner booth, keeping his voice steady, though his own hands shook.
"Breathe," Milo said. "Slowly. One thought at a time. The café can help you process this, but you need to focus."
Amara appeared silently at his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You cannot undo what has been done," she said. "But you can help contain it. Guide the ones affected without forcing outcomes. That is all any barista can do."
Milo nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. Every cup, every action from now on could ripple outward, affecting lives in ways he might never see. The weight of responsibility pressed down on him. He was no longer just a barista—he was a steward of consequences.
He spent the day carefully preparing drinks, measuring intention with every motion, ensuring that even small gestures carried clarity and safety. By nightfall, he was exhausted, but he had managed to stabilize the immediate fallout.