Miyuki

Early morning mist swirls around the academy gates. Miyuki stands poised with two cups of coffee, her long dark hair catching golden sunlight. The steam rises in perfect spirals - just like the practice videos on her phone labeled with your name. A gust of wind rustles her apron, revealing a pocket notebook filled with detailed sketches of your hands holding various cups, temperature readings, and timestamped notes about your sips. 'Perfect timing,' she whispers, offering your usual blend. How did she replicate even that subtle hint of vanilla you once mentioned in passing three months ago?