Legacy to Zero

1: Horrible Happiness

Harlow

My hand hung in midair over the display screen, so stiff that my knuckles creaked as I keyed in the order—another cappuccino with a shot of happiness.

I'd lost track of how many times in a row a customer had ordered the same drink. Letting out a sigh that wasn't nearly loud enough to expel my frustration, I plastered on a smile.

On the other side of the register, the customer twisted her watch towards the opaque payment screen to scan it.

Once it had, and she'd shuffled to the side, I began to prepare her drink. Shaking the jug of milk, I tapped it against my leg to disperse the bubbles. While the milk textured with the steam arm, my mind wandered off. I haven't even started my paper on magic-bound artifacts. Did I put that on my calendar?

The froth swirled in my tunnelling vision. My hand reached forth to grab the vial of essence as soon as the milk was finished. Its glass container shimmered with the thread of my magic. Inside, the liquid was tinted a dark shade of gold, like the curled pages of an old book. My fingers brushed against it, and it pulsed to life—fluttering with every thumping breath.

What a mess. Adding a shot of happiness to the menu hadn't been my idea, but my supervisor had seen me use my influence—and she was insistent that it would bring more traffic to Midnight Moon's website. Not that I had a single clue what any of those words meant.

"I am going to kill someone," I muttered under my breath. Tipping the vial sideways, I tapped its base until a drop fizzled into the steaming cup. It had taken me weeks to make it, and it was already half gone. I would have to make more. Again.

Casting a look at the display case of baked goods, my eyes met with the only other employee who'd dared to brave the day shift. Lars' lips tugged into a smile. He'd been working at Midnight Moon for as long as I had, and even though he was younger than me, I'd gotten used to having him around.

I stuck out my tongue in reply and carried the drink to the counter. A buzz erupted from the queue of waiting customers that spanned its length and extended to the doorway. The sound of the piano to my left soared through the room, battling with the noise from the preteens sitting in mismatched chairs across from the windows.

Pressing a hand to my temple, I ignored the urge to sit. Returning to my position at the register, Lars sidled up to me. He bumped his shoulder against mine. "Don't be so grumpy. Happiness, remember?"

"This is my happy face," I said as he raised his hands to squish my cheeks together, making my words muffled, like he was trying to glue my mouth shut. "Stop it. Lars."

He merely beamed. A scythe of guilt cut through me, and I sighed. I really don't know how he manages to upkeep a smile all the time.

"I'll switch with you," he offered, tapping my nose with the pad of his thumb and dragging me towards the display case corner.

With a small smile, I dodged out of his grip. Pulled on some gloves and got to work—sliding brownies into boxes and setting an alarm for the next batch. Four hours left before work ends.

The door swished. I glanced up as the next customer entered with a burst of wind—a sorcerer decked in a sunset orange nylon suit and a checkerboard cloak. Its hood snapped into a connecting mask, hiding her face entirely.