You approach the counter, phone already open to the app because your card is somewhere in the abyss of your bag. “Can I get a grande chai latte, please?” you say, trying to sound confident.
The barista nods, not fooled by your fake confidence. They know you’re just trying to survive until lunch. The magic happens when they steam the milk—it sounds like a tiny dragon warming up for a nap.
The temperature gamble
You take that first sip way too fast. Every single time. Your tongue makes a mental note: “We did it again, didn’t we?” It’s the same logic that makes you check the microwave popcorn with your bare hand instead of waiting.
But that sip—oh, that sip. It’s like a blanket for your insides. The chai spices—cinnamon, cardamom, ginger—do a little dance on your taste buds. It’s not coffee, so you can pretend you’re being healthy. It’s basically tea with a side of delusion.
