It was so hot. Everyone in the kitchen was confused as Milo ran off to get another cup of coffee.
"How does he make his coffee?" Milo asked a servant there.
The girl just pressed a button on the coffee machine. That was it, just like he did.
Milo sighed, he stood by the espresso machine for a long time. His fingers trembled slightly as he pressed the button for the eleventh time.
The high-pitched grinding of the beans felt like it was drilling directly into his brain. He watched the dark liquid drip into the porcelain cup, the steam rising to dampen his face.
He carried the tray to the desk with the precision of a tightrope walker. His shoulders were stiff, and his back still ached, but he was more concerned about the cup in his hands now.
He walked to the office again, didn't bother to knock, walked in, and placed the cup on Salvatore's desk.
Salvatore didn't even look up from the ledger he was reviewing. He reached out, took a single sip, and set it back down with a frown.
