The first time anyone questioned his love for baristas was when his friend uttered a casual observation.
"You really like baristas. Dont you?" The friend sid it meaning no harm with a smile. And no harm was taken.
But the casualest of statements can cause another person to question with scrutiny the simplest things. So why did he like baristas so much.
It was obvious now. After his friend uttered that statement with his slanted smirk. He did love baristas. He tried explaining it in words. His friend understood his words. But he disagreed.
"I mean I like coffee. And I dont even like coffee that much. But its alright. But baristas just make coffee. What's so special about that?"
Nothing he thought to himself. It was true. When you objectively considered what a barista did, it wasnt all that remarkable. They were a cog in a machine. He knew this with his head but he still loved them. And still thought their feelings and thoughts were better than ours. He saw them almost as veterans of a great past war. But what was the Batista's war. What were they returning from?
"I should become a barista" his friend joked. "Then you'll like me more."