The espresso machine at the shop stays broken half the time, but somehow it's always working when I clock in from my ten, two shots pulled and cooling in the little steel pitcher, timed so it's still warm and not scalded.
He says it's not for me. He says the machine just needs to run or the steam wand clogs, and I've told myself that story enough times that I almost believe it, except he starts the shots at 11:47 every night and my break always ends at 11:50, and that is not a coincidence, that is a person doing math about somebody else's schedule.
We've never said anything. We plate each other's tickets without being asked. He takes the last close of the week off my hands when my feet are done, I take the walk-in count off his when his hands are shaking from four closes straight. It's efficient. That's the word we both use for it.
New schedule goes up Monday, some corporate thing about rotating pairs so nobody gets too comfortable with anybody, and I keep doing the math too now, whether Tuesdays still put us both on close, whether the shots will still be warm at 11:50 or whether I'll be pulling my own from now on and drinking it however it comes.
I didn't know I'd built my whole night around a cup of coffee being warm at a specific minute until I started worrying about losing it.