Mathilda Fusselbuth was the Head Matron at the Institute of Coffee. She would go from room to room, observing quietly as people practiced the fine art of coffee preparation. Fine china and silver utensils were the norm, the soft clink as sugar and cream were stirred in. But as she entered the Blue Room one day, she was horrified.
Three young people were high-fiving, laughing over the “epic froth” they’d just cranked out. Mathilda’s hand went to her chest and grasped the string of pearls; she might as well have seen trolls stirring coffee.
She exited the room quickly.
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