It’s October. I was sitting here on this counter for half a month. Why did I have to turn my back to the only person I could meet in this coffee shop just because I was a toy. Yes, I was a toy, a pumpkin that when someone pushes the small black button under me, I would scream an evil laugh for 7 seconds. (wow). I thought the face I would miss the most would be him, the barista. He was like my guardian angel. He kept me clean and smell like coffee 24/7. No, I did not. I thought the face I would miss the most would be the girl that came to this coffee shop 8 days a week. No I did not. There were lots of customers that came to this shop everyday or at least every weekday, but that girl, she was like a neighbour to this shop. She brought her friends, I could say, friends from every of her lifetime to this shop. Then there was one guy that she brought him here. He never came back. There was a time I wondered if she had stopped seeing him or they hadn't been not that close. One day, I heard her mentioned his name and the barista almost drop his mug.

I knew it.

That fucking barista. I only saw his face like five glances a day and I was the only one he could talk to, at least he could do the monologue, but no, he was grieving. Instead of talking to a real toy with a soul, all he did was staring at his phone that contained no soul but linked to 1000 souls far far away.

I bet 2 seconds of my evil laugh to another pumpkin, a smaller one, that sat across me on the shelf, that the barista liked this guy. Okay I was not going to talk about the girl in my neighbourhood anymore, she was going to be just the neighbour, also she was not the subject. Let’s talk about this guy. Let’s call him Nik.

That time when he came to this shop. The neighbour, the barista and Nik had a nice conversation. I almost cried with joy because I knew how boring it was when the barista had to wait alone in the shop with the stylish playlist straight from BBC Radio One given by the manager, it made him depressed everyday 9 in the morning to 8 in the evening. That was fucking 12 hours. When there were the right guests and some nice chats coming up to this shop, those people magically lit the room up like we were skipping Halloween to Christmas. The thing was no group of people could beat the neighbour and Nik’s conversation yet.

I swear I had no string attached to the barista, at least not to his face, but I hoped Nik came back to this coffee shop again. Everyday I saw the neighbour’s face when she sat across the counter, and picked me up, I felt like I could not do my job anymore, even if it’s just a laugh for 7 seconds. She never brought that guy to this shop ever again. The conversation that the barista had been waiting for never come back. I should have known that. All the right conversation would never come back again. All I could do was hoping for another one that could beat the best one we had had.