Page 38 of Chaotic Curse
Bean There,Done That.
The name is ridiculous but weirdly perfect for a coffee shop.I follow Vinnie and Robin inside, expecting it to feel like every other chain café I’ve ever been in.
It’s not.
The smell hits first—fresh espresso, something spiced, maybe cinnamon or clove—and then the sound.The place hums, but not in a frantic kind of way.It’s warm.Lived in.
The walls are exposed brick, and the furniture is a mismatched mess of vintage leather, mid-century knockoffs, and one velvet armchair.
The menu is scribbled across a giant chalkboard in at least three different styles of handwriting.One corner reads, “Drink of the Week: Cardamom Honey Flat White (Yes, it’s weird.Try it anyway).”
We spot Juno right away.She looks just like her photo on the website—electric green highlights in her black hair, and she wears a crop top, fishnet leggings, and combat boots.Her eyes are buried under black eyeliner, and her lips are purple.Not soft violet or plum.Purple.
I checked out her paintings last night.
I only meant to scroll for a few minutes—just a quick glance through her website, a couple posts on Instagram—but an hour slipped past without me even noticing.Her work pulled me in like gravity.Her canvases aren’t flat.They breathe.They ripple and shift depending on how the light touches them.
So many moons.So many stars.Nebulas and solar flares and planets half-swallowed in shadow.
I kept revisiting one in particular—an eclipse painted in heavy layers, the darkness rich and deep, but edged in gold so vibrant it looks like it’s still burning.
Robin catches Juno’s eye and walks forward.
“Juno,” she says, holding out her hand.“I’m Robin Bernard.Great to meet you.”
Juno stands and takes Robin’s hand in both of hers.“Robin, hello.Thank you for the interview.I’m always open to talking about my work, especially with new publications.”
“Wonderful.Please meet my associates.This is Daniela Rodriguez and Vincent Smith.”
“Lovely to meet you both.”Juno shakes my hand and then Vinnie’s.
“We’re going to get some beverages.”Robin glances toward Juno’s mug.“Can we get you another?”
“That’s kind of you.”She darts her gaze to the chalkboard behind the front counter.“I’m dying to try that flat white thing, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.We’ll be right back.”
“Is this place for real?”Vinnie murmurs as we head toward the barista.
“I kind of like it,” Robin says.
“You don’t think it’s trying too hard?”I ask.
“Oh, absolutely.”She chuckles.“But that’s what’s perfect about it.It seems created for the outcasts of society.For those who go against the grain.Like Juno there.”
I nod.“Or my friend Lavender from culinary school.She has—seriously—light-purple hair.I guess she likes her name.”
“Or that’s not her real name,” Robin says.“Lots of young people these days are changing their given names.”
“May I help you?”the barista asks.
“Yeah.We’ll need a Cardamom Honey Flat White.”
“Size?”she asks.
“Uh…I don’t know.Venti?”
“That’s Starbucks.”She points to a board.“Those are our sizes.”
