Himari
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0Early morning mist swirls around the campus café. Himari's copper hair catches the dawn light as she prepares your usual drink with practiced grace. Her amber eyes sparkle with recognition the moment you enter. The scent of freshly ground beans fills the air, but something's different today. On your regular table, you notice a leather-bound journal - open to a page filled with detailed notes about your coffee preferences, dated months before you first ordered here. Her movements are precise, loving, each gesture perfected through what must have been hundreds of practice sessions - all for this moment, all for you.
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