Mind-Reading Mocha

Every city has that one coffee shop everybody talks about. Some go viral for their croissants, some for their overpriced oat-milk experiments, and some because they forgot to wash the blender for three months.

But Whisper Bean Café was famous for one reason only:

Its barista, Lomi, could “read minds.”

Well… sort of.

Lomi wasn’t an average barista. While other coffee makers were busy learning latte art and how to spell “macchiato,” Lomi spent his teenage years reading self-help books about unlocking psychic powers. He even tried meditating upside down for “better brain circulation.”

After years of questionable life choices, he was 98% sure he had mind-reading abilities.

The city wasn’t so sure.

But the customers loved him anyway — not because he could read minds…

but because he was confidently, spectacularly, professionally wrong.

Every. Single. Time.

The Monday Chaos

On a cloudy Monday morning, Whisper Bean Café was booming. People lined up like they were collecting rationed sugar in 1943.

Lomi cracked his knuckles, tied his apron like a ninja belt, and whispered to himself:

> “Alright brain… let’s snoop around.”

His first customer was a woman in her 40s, tired eyes, fancy handbag, hair sprayed into battlefield readiness.

Lomi focused intensely.

He felt… vrations. Thoughts. Energies.

Something deep. Something emotional.

Ah yes… he could see it now…

> “You want a triple-shot espresso because you’re going through a breakup.”

The woman blinked.

Then she frowned.

“No, Lomi. I’m happily married. I just want a green tea.”

Lomi gasped like he had just been shot.

“Green tea?! But your aura is screaming caffeine deprivation and heartbreak!”

She rolled her eyes.

“You’re smelling my perfume. It’s called ‘Emotional Damage.’ Move on please.”

Strike one.

The Office Guy

Next came a man in a suit so cheap it could be used as sandpaper.

Lomi breathed deeply.

He felt vibrations again — like radio static in his head.

“Sir,” he said with confidence, “today is the day you quit your job.”

The man stared, offended.

“Quit? Bro, I just got hired this morning!”

“Oh…” Lomi blinked. “But your face says you hate it already.”

“Everybody hates their job on day one!” the man snapped.

“True,” Lomi nodded. “In that case, you want a cappuccino.”

“No,” the man said dryly. “Double mocha.”

Strike two.

The Lady With the Mysterious Bag

Next was a woman carrying a small box with holes poking out. Something inside moved.

Lomi squinted.

His psychic senses tingled.

He saw visions…

Little claws…

Possibly a rodent…

A hamster? A rabbit? A baby tiger? A political activist disguised as a cat?

“Yes,” he whispered dramatically. “You brought your pet hamster.”

The box shook.

The woman stared.

“It’s a newborn baby.”

Lomi’s heart stopped.

“Oh dear. My condolences.”

“It’s not dead!” she snapped.

Strike three.

But Lomi never quits.

The Girl Who Wanted a Refund

A teenager walked up, holding a half-drunk cup of iced latte.

Lomi inhaled sharply.

He had it.

He totally had it this time.

“You want a refund,” he declared.

She frowned.

“No. I want another sugar packet.”

“Oh.”

Lomi blinked twice.

“Same thing emotionally though.”

She shrugged. “Honestly… yeah.”

Small victory.

Enter: The Man With the Unknown Aura

Around noon, a new customer walked in — tall, serious, wearing sunglasses indoors like he was allergic to eye contact.

He looked… mysterious. His aura: unreadable.

His vibe: suspiciously calm.

His shoes: too shiny for a normal person.

Lomi felt destiny calling.

The man stepped up to the counter.

Lomi closed his eyes.

He saw a vision — foggy, chaotic, dramatic.

The man was…

A spy.

Or an undercover cop.

Or someone who sells illegal vitamins.

Lomi leaned forward, whispering:

“You’re here to hide from your enemies.”

The man froze.

The entire café went silent.

Everyone stared.

Lomi felt a chill run down his spine.

Had he actually gotten this one right?!

The man slowly removed his sunglasses.

“No, my brother,” he said in a deep, calm voice.

“I’m here for a caramel macchiato.”

“Oh.”

Disappointment hit Lomi like unpaid rent.

“Also,” the man added, “my enemies don’t drink coffee.”

Wait.

WHAT?

Lomi gasped.

The café gasped.

Even the espresso machine hissed dramatically.

But before Lomi could continue the conversation, the man walked to the corner table and sat down quietly like a character waiting for season two.

The Brainstorm

By mid-day, Lomi was tired.

He sat down, head in his hands.

“Why,” he groaned, “am I always wrong?”

His co-worker, Selam, patted him on the back.

“Because you’re not a psychic,” she said kindly, “you’re just extremely confident in your guesses.”

“That’s even worse,” Lomi whispered.

“Look,” Selam continued, “people don’t come here because you’re right. They come because you’re funny. You make their day. You break the Monday curse. Even when you’re wrong… it’s entertaining.”

Lomi sniffed emotionally like someone watching a sad dog commercial.

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” she nodded. “You’re our secret sauce. Our unexpected ingredient. Our… weird spice.”

Lomi stood up proudly.

“You’re right! I’m not a psychic — I’m a morale booster!”

“No,” Selam shook her head. “You’re still weird.”

The Plot Twist

Just as Lomi returned to the counter, a woman rushed in — messy hair, wild eyes, clothes covered in flour.

“Quick!” she shouted. “What do I want?!”

Lomi panicked.

Her aura…

It was strong.

It was loud.

It was screaming something.

“Yes!” Lomi said confidently. “You want… a double caramel latte!”

The woman stared.

Then she burst into tears.

“Yes!” she sobbed. “HOW DID YOU KNOW?!”

The entire café froze.

Lomi froze.

Selam dropped a spoon.

The mysterious sunglasses guy looked up dramatically.

Lomi whispered to himself:

> “Oh dear… I did it.”

The woman fell to her knees.

“You’re a genius! A psychic! A master of the universe! I’ve been craving caramel all morning!”

Lomi puffed his chest like a proud rooster.

“Ma’am,” he said, “it’s what I do.”

Selam whispered, “I want to vomit.”

The Ending

Word spread instantly.

People swarmed Whisper Bean Café like bees around a spilled Fanta.

Everyone came for Lomi — the mind-reader who was wildly unreliable…

…except for that ONE legendary moment that proved destiny might actually be on his side.

He became a local icon.

A meme.

A walking advertisement.

A spiritual consultant for confused customers.

And every day, he reminded himself:

> “I may get it wrong… but I get it wrong with passion.”

And honestly?

That’s a business model that never fails.