The world was a broken reality that left the less unfortunate in a tailspin of crisis'. Taylor knew it all too well, but he didn't let the hold of misery keep him down. No, he rolled his sleeves up, grabbed the bandaids, and began covering the cracks of the world. The bandaids were small, and the cracks were vast and miles long, but he held onto the hope that every single bandaid left the world a little less broken.

That didn't mean that Taylor liked getting out of bed in the morning, lulled, and begged to stay by the fluffy down of his thick blankets. Pillows adorned the free space, like a nest of stuffing to keep his body sufficiently trapped in the most comfortable prison. Still, his alarm clock called for his productivity, so he rolled on top of the desaturated purple pillow to his left, lightly tapping the cream alarm clock that had shuffled the paw print hands to 5:30.

The alarm clock also woke up his fluffy white Pomeranian and Shih Tzu mix, Foam, who promptly dived from her place on the end of the bed onto his side, licking his face with fervor. He laughed, his soft voice making Foam rest her head on his shoulder, panting and letting out a light yip.

"Let's get you some f - o - o - d," Taylor said to the small dog, her ears perking up at the spelling of her favorite word. She launched from the bed like a fur-covered torpedo, dashing past his cracked door into the kitchen. Taking the moment of quiet, he let out a sigh before rolling off the edge of the bed, landing lightly on his feet.

The clicks on the floor greeted him as Foam danced in excitement, bouncing up and down. He grabbed her little bowl, filling it with some dry dog food. Opening the fridge, he pulled out her specially prescribed wet food and pieces of lettuce in a Tupperware bowl. He placed a spoon scoop of wet dog food on top of the dry food.  

Foam yipped as he set it down and began crunching instantly. He leaned on the counter for just a minute, smiling down at her before he pushed himself into a straightened position, scratching the back of his dyed hair as he walked to the closet that sat in between his guest bedroom and the living room. Opening it up, he noted in his head to put the chicken feed on the list as he grabbed the mostly empty bag from the bottom of the closet, adjusting to he could hold the bowl of lettuce and the feed at the same time.

The backdoor was just on the other side of the kitchen, and the clucks of chickens greeted him when he stepped on the concrete back porch. His hand was shuffling into the bag as he approached the chicken coop, sprinkling feed on the ground. Three chickens, two normal and the other extremely fluffy for her breed, approached with careful bobs of their heads, shifting and darting for the feed on the ground. When he polished off the rest of the bag, he stepped back, tossing the lettuce pieces onto the ground beside them. When they were sufficiently distracted with their food, he stepped around them and checked for eggs, pulling out two for the day.

Satisfied, he went back inside to prepare breakfast and get ready for work.

-

His car fell into silence as he pulled out the key, stuffing his wallet into his apron pocket, and checking his phone. No messages, but he wasn't surprised. Not many of his employees called out for work without several hours warning ahead of time. 

He stepped out of his vehicle, shutting and locking the door behind him before walking towards the back of 'The Steamed Milk.' It had been a passion project of his, scraping and saving from his three previous jobs in order to start the coffee shop. He had been proud when he finally opened and got his first customer, even when he was dead tired as the only employee. When John had applied, it had been a godsend, and then soon, he had three workers there at any point in time. To just go home before eight was an insane prospect for him.

Then he got his own house. It was small, don't get him wrong, but he loved it, used what little saved profit he didn't put into other projects to save up over the past three years to put the down payment. Even if it was small, it was leagues better than the tiny apartment he used to live in.

Ashley pulled up behind him as he unlocked the door, which he greeted with a smile and wave. She came out of her car with a small puff of cold mist from her breath, pulling her coat closer to her body as she hurried over to Taylor.

"It's so fucking cold t-today," She shivered, almost pushing past him, seeking warmth from the weather outside. Taylor let out a small giggle, following behind her. She had somewhat of a foul mouth, but it came from years of knowing her. John, her husband, actually introduced them and got her the job. They became friends, and now they visit each other's homes regularly. Taylor was very proud of what she had become in these past few years, from a rash to... well, she was still rash, but she knew when to let it out. 

"You're so skinny! How are you not freezing your balls off?!" She exclaimed, rubbing her arms several times as she hurried towards the kitchen where the heater was. They still had an hour before 'The Steamed Milk' opened, so she flipped the heat so the store would warm. Oh, to have the luxury of not worrying about the electric bill.

"I like the cold," Taylor responded, pulling off his thicker outer coat and placing it on the rack behind the door. It was true. He preferred the cold, the bite on his face that reminded him that he could still feel. He held onto it dearly because he remembered a time when he couldn't. Though, he wouldn't bother Ashley with an explanation like that.

"Speaking of cold, how is that cunt?" Ashley asked, her tone completely blasé. Taylor gave her an arched eyebrow look, but she merely grinned in response. While he didn't condone her speaking ill of a customer, he did know she had a reason to be a little...frustrated with him.

"He mostly doesn't speak, though I think I got him pegged with the Spice Christmas drink. He gets it every time," Taylor said, a little pride fluffing his voice as he tightened the back of his apron and began flipping on lights. Starting up the machines, Ashley let out a light snort, crouching to pull out containers to make earl gray tea.

"Of course you have him pegged," Ashley stated with a roll of her eyes, looking back at Taylor with a slight purse of her thin but shapely lips, "You always know how to deal with the assholes. It's why I like working for you because I don't have to deal with them."

Taylor let out a sigh, setting out a batch of cups and turning on the oven to heat up some pastries made the night before, "Believe it or not, I had no idea what I said to said customer to make him calm down. From what you told me, I honestly just think he was having a bad day."

"There you go again," Ashley cut in before he could start his next thought, her icy blue eyes cutting into him with a clarity that he wasn't sure he felt comfortable with, "Am I going to give you another talk? Having a bad day or having a mental illness explains the behavior, but it..." She prompted, her expression making clear he should answer. He turned back towards the counter, feeling his chest burning a little bit.

"What is the rest of it, Taylor?"

"It doesn't excuse it," Taylor said, sighing and letting his hands rest on the counter. He sagged, but he did feel better as he reminded himself of that. Taylor let out a hum, and he could tell just from that response that she was nodding.

"Good. I'm going to break this out of you if I have to remind you every day for the rest of your life. You still following that guideline I got from James?" She asked, the clack of jugs following her voice as she moved them to the side.

"You know it's not that simple," Taylor said, clenching one hand before forcing himself out of the stupor and placing the rack of premade pastries into the warm oven, "Saying no is hard. You know that."

"I know, Tay, but it's for the best that you learn how to do it. You are a great person, and I want you to be confident in yourself. You deserve it just as much as the rest of us," Ashley's hand touched his shoulder, and he looked back at her, giving her a smile. She returned it, removing her hand and cracking her knuckles.

"Alright, let's get this done before we have to open late."

-

Taylor glanced at the clock, counting down mentally in his head as the hand got closer and closer to noon. Ashley was finishing up another coffee order, handing the steaming cup to a small girl in a purple sweater. She gave a two-finger salute to Taylor before she disappeared into the back, leaving him alone at the front counter.

Noon struck, and Matthew walked through the door, looking as uncomfortable as he always did.

"Welcome back, Matthew," Taylor said with a warm smile. He had decided that he should deal with the man alone, as he always seemed on edge when there were other people too close to him. Thankfully, he hasn't caused another incident with anybody since the first time - and Taylor is especially thankful that Ashley didn't beat his ass.

Matthew didn't say anything, but he walked up to the counter, his brows furrowed slightly as he glanced at Taylor and then right back down to the ground.

"Would you like your usual?" Taylor prompted, his voice getting a little more gentle. When Matthew shook his head no, Taylor's eyes widened in concern, his head tipping.

"Is something the matter? Has the drink been subpar? Or maybe you simply want to try something new?" Taylor asked, his hands gripping the edge of the counter just a little. Matthew took a deep breath, his right fist tapping his legs several times before lifting his head.

"C-could I have another recommendation?" Matthew said, his voice sounding so raspy and almost borderline frustrated. Taylor relaxed instantly, a soft smile on his face as he let himself trust his own judgment.

"Of course. How about something soothing? I think that you might really like the peppermint mocha...." Taylor paused for a moment, studying Matthew for just a moment longer, "Actually, let's make it iced this time. You seem like you could use the cold." Taylor said, tapping it into the system for Ashley to make.

Matthew's lips twitched, almost like he wanted to smile or cry. Taylor couldn't tell, but he kept his smile warm and his body language as open as possible. "Would you like some food with it? How about a cinnamon and crumb-"

"You like the cold, too, huh?" Matthew said, the only time Taylor had heard him speak without the frail and anxious tone. Taylor stopped mid-word, his smile falling just a little before he let out a small 'hmph' chuckle. Putting the order in, he watched as Matthew placed his card into the reader.

"The cold is a good reminder. Sometimes we need it, you know?" Taylor said, his cheery tone dampened but still genuine, "I want the world to be good enough where the cold isn't needed, but until then, I will do my best to make people's days better with good coffee."

Matthew didn't respond, but his eyes moved back to the floor, red across his nose and cheeks. Oh, his ears catch red too. Taylor probably wouldn't have noticed that if the cold wind hadn't knocked some strands out of the way.

Ashley emerged from the back room, letting out a soft 'psst' and holding the drink out to Taylor. He took it, sliding it over to Matthew, "Give it a taste and let me know if it needs any changes."

Matthew eyed him, and he looked significantly more nervous as he took the cup. Maybe he didn't like eating or drinking in front of others? Still, he pulled a drink from the cup, swallowing and looking at the almost hot chocolate-colored liquid. 

Matthew nodded, not saying anything else before turning and leaving. That didn't surprise Taylor, though he watched him from the window a bit longer than he normally would of. He could have sworn that he saw him rub at his eyes, but Taylor wouldn't dwell on what he couldn't prove.

Instead, he put on another smile and greeted the next customer.