Sol was ordering from another one of those fancy cafes that served lists and lists of different coffee drinks that all sounded the same when pronounced by untrained tongues, again. His mother owned one of the finest cafes in Italy, and it was the excuse he used to complain about the coffee. "I said a dash of cream! It looks like you just poured the whole damn container into it!" He slammed the freshly made macchiato back on the counter, making such a ruckus that the people around him turned their heads to stare. "Don't you people know how to make macchiato around here?" "Sir, we can make you another one if you could just-" The woman behind the counter flinched at the noise his fist made when it came down on the wooden surface. He scowled into her face before grabbing the paper cup and throwing the money on the table. "Forget it. Take the money, I'm never coming here again." And with that, walked straight out in front and motioned for a taxi. He stopped for a moment to take a sip of his too-creamy coffee and made a face to show his discontent for the taste. 'I should have just made my own,' he thought to himself bitterly as he rudely ignored the taxi that pulled over and strolled up the sidewalk. He was still in a pissy mood, and it wasn't just the coffee that he was thinking about. He hadn't been out in days, and he didn't have anyone to go drinking with, maybe walking around a little could help him blow off some steam.