The morning rush was pure, unfiltered caffeinated chaos. The kind that made Aislinn question every life choice that had led her to this exact moment, which was impressive, considering she secretly adored this kind of chaos way more than she'd ever admit out loud, especially to Hadley.
The espresso machine hissed with all the subtlety of a feral alley cat preparing to file formal complaints. Milk pitchers screeched as they frothed. The grinder growled like a tiny possessed dragon.
Up front, a toddler attempted to scale the pastry case like it was Everest, tiny fingers smacking the glass while his exhausted mother negotiated in a whisper so desperate it belonged in a crime drama.
Behind them, three teenagers argued over last week's frappes with the intensity of lawyers battling in federal court about who owed who for last week's drinks.
Someone ordered a triple-shot caramel oatmilk latte with "spiritually aligned foam," which meant absolutely nothing to anyone making it.
Hadley slapped the espresso machine. "Behave, you malfunctioning garden gnome."
It sputtered dramatically, like it was filing a complaint.
Maya, sweet golden-retriever energy wrapped in an apron, peeked over the pastry case like a nervous meerkat. "Hadley, please stop hitting it. Every time you do, it sounds like it's begging for help and drafting its resignation letter."
"It can send its complaints to HR," Hadley replied.
Aislinn didn't even look up. "You are HR."
"Exactly," Hadley said proudly. "I approve of all my own bad decisions."
Gabe lifted the cold brew pitcher. His hair was tied back in a messy knot, like someone who would rather be camping but had accepted his destiny as Beverage Technician of Chaos. "Pretty sure you just violated like… six workplace rights for machinery."
Hadley pointed her spoon at him like a wand of doom. "If this machine starts a union, you're its spokesperson."
Customers laughed. Even the toddler mom cracked a smile as she wrangled her sugar-gremlin back to earth.
Aislinn handed off a pastry bag to a businessman who mouthed "good luck" as if he were escaping a battlefield. She turned back to Hadley with the weary authority of someone who had done this too many times before.
"Hadley, stop bullying the appliances. We cannot afford another toaster situation."
"That toaster betrayed me."
"It slightly over-toasted your bagel."
"That is a breach of the sacred breakfast contract."
Aislinn pressed a hand to her forehead. "Facilities Management should really step in."
"I am Facilities Management."
"And that," she said, pointing at him like she was presenting evidence in court, "is precisely why we're doomed."
Laughter rolled through the café. Someone at a table actually clapped. The toddler pointed at Hadley and shouted, "Mean lady hit the machine!" which only made Hadley bow like she'd been praised.
"You two need a podcast," a customer said.
"No," Aislinn said immediately.
"Yes," Hadley said just as fast. "Coming soon: Beans, Banter & Bad Behavior."
By 9:45, the chaos finally eased and Kindred Cup settled into its soft mid-morning rhythm — warm hum of voices, clinking cups, cinnamon drifting from fresh pastries, and the faint sound of Hadley muttering threats at the espresso machine like it was an ex-boyfriend.
Maya stretched her arms overhead until her shoulders popped, her soft ponytail bouncing with the movement. "I can take register if you want a break."
Hadley pressed one hand to her spine and groaned theatrically. "Bless you. My joints are screaming like I'm one hundred twenty." Her voice had the tragic weight of someone auditioning for an overly dramatic soap opera.
Maya nodded, eyebrows lifting in sympathy. "Same. My knees pop every time I crouch." She bent down to grab a stack of cup sleeves, and sure enough two sharp cracks sounded. She winced but still grinned.
Aislinn blinked at them, trying not to laugh. "Both of you are children. I am older than the two of you." Her tone was dry, but her eyes warmed at the banter.
Hadley reached out and patted her forearm with exaggerated pity, lower lip sticking out. "Sweetheart, you may be older, but only emotionally."
Gabe, lining up syrup bottles like he was conducting an orchestra only he understood, called from the bar, "Most accurate thing she has ever said." He did not look up from his task, voice calm and matter-of-fact.
Aislinn and Hadley grabbed lattes and dropped into the oversized window chairs. The cushions gave way under them with a dramatic whoosh. Aislinn let her head fall back for a moment, breathing in the warm smell of coffee and cinnamon.
Hadley pointed her cup at her like a prosecutor about to win a case. Her brows rose expectantly. "Okay. Start talking." Her tone was sharp with curiosity wrapped in mischief.
Aislinn groaned, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. "It was just a weird dream." Her voice fell flat, the kind that already knew she was not getting away with it.
"No. Bad opener. Try again." Hadley's voice was firm, playful, and unyielding. Her eyes narrowed with delight.
"Hadley," Aislinn warned, cheeks warming.
"Tell me or I will loudly remind everyone how you cried at that dog food commercial." Hadley's tone brightened with wicked glee.
Aislinn's mouth fell open a little. "There was a puppy reunion. It was emotional." Her voice pitched higher, defensive but also amused.
"It was manipulative," Hadley shot back, lifting one eyebrow. "Spill."
Aislinn let out a slow breath through her nose and looked down at her latte. Her fingers tightened around the cup, the warmth grounding her. "It felt real."
Hadley stopped mid-sip, her eyes going wide and sharp with interest. "Define real." Her voice lowered, almost reverent.
"I felt someone."
Aislinn's voice softened into something fragile.
Quiet. Small. Honest.
"Like… actually felt someone holding me."
Hadley made a quick, breathy gasp and leaned forward, eyes sparkling. "Oh, this is already my favorite story."
"It wasn't sexual," Aislinn said quickly, looking away. "Just… consuming. Comforting. Like he knew me." She lifted one hand, fingers brushing her temple as though the memory still hummed there.
"Was he hot?" Hadley asked without hesitation. She pursed her lips, waiting.
Aislinn hesitated and then nodded, tiny and reluctant. "…yes."
Hadley fist-pumped the air triumphantly, practically vibrating with joy. "Spiritual win!" she crowed.
Aislinn groaned into her hands, shoulders curving inward. "Why am I like this."
"No," Hadley said, sitting up straighter. "Tell me more. Fog? Mystery man? Soulmate vibes?" Her tone rolled with teasing urgency.
"There was fog. And I couldn't see his face. Just warmth. And… a pull." Aislinn's voice thinned just slightly, like she could feel the memory hovering behind her ribs.
Hadley leaned even closer and whispered, "Did you wake up flustered?" Her grin was wicked.
Aislinn's jaw tightened. "I refuse to answer."
Hadley slapped her thigh. "So yes."
"It was just a dream," Aislinn insisted, her tone trying for logic but landing closer to pleading.
"It was destiny." Hadley's voice was smug and sing-song.
"It was weird."
"It can be both," Hadley said, nodding with great authority.
Aislinn sighed, tipping her head back, eyes closing for a moment. "Why do I tell you things?"
"Because I am delightful," Hadley answered proudly, sitting up like she had just won an award.
Hadley took a triumphant sip of her latte, eyes still glittering. "So. Obviously this means we need professional help."
Aislinn let her head fall back against the chair. "No. And since when is this a we thing."
Hadley didn't miss a beat. "Since you started having soulmate fever dreams and I, as your emotional support goblin, became spiritually obligated to intervene."
Aislinn lifted her cup in slow warning. "Hadley… NO!"
"Yes," Hadley continued, undeterred, leaning forward with conspiratorial excitement. "And I know exactly who. The dream-chakra-energy-alignment psychic lady from the community board."
Aislinn lifted her latte to her mouth like it might shield her. "The one who also advertises help interpreting water bills."
"Exactly," Hadley said, nodding like this was a selling point. "She is multitalented."
"She is a scam," Aislinn said.
Gabe called from the bar without looking up, "She told my cousin his dishwasher was in retrograde."
Hadley swung her arm toward him. "And did it break the next day?"
Gabe opened his mouth. Closed it. "…yes."
"Vindication," Hadley announced proudly.
Aislinn pinched the bridge of her nose. "Hadley, I need therapy and wine. Not… meter-reading mysticism."
"Why not all three?" Hadley asked, positively radiant.
Aislinn stared. "Because I like my coping mechanisms separate."
Aislinn pinched the bridge of her nose. "Hadley, I am not going to a psychic who moonlights as a utility analyst."
"She said she can read past lives through electric meter fluctuations," Hadley countered.
Aislinn stared at her. "That is not a skill. That is a red flag wearing a name tag."
Hadley leaned in, eyes huge and dramatic. "Ais. You had a cosmic cuddle with a faceless forest man. You need guidance. The universe is literally waving traffic signals at you."
"What I need," Aislinn said, holding up one finger, "is to drink my latte and pretend I did not just hear the phrase cosmic cuddle come out of your mouth. Noooooo psychic."
Hadley folded her arms and nodded slowly, as if taking notes. "Got it. So what you are saying is yes, but you want me to ask again later after lunch and you're not hangry."
"That is not what I said."
"It is exactly what you said," Hadley replied, taking an enormous victory sip then waved her off. "You need clarity. Possibly sage. Possibly chakra-tuning. Possibly a woman who can tell you your future by analyzing your past-due electric bill."
Aislinn stared at her latte and muttered, "Why do I tell you anything."
"Because," Hadley said sweetly, "denial is your love language and meddling is mine."
Aislinn rolled her eyes dramatically
Hadley sweetly patted her knee, "deep down you love me and also I am delightful."