Reika Takeda liked the rhythm of small things: the clink of ceramic cups stacked after closing, the soft hiss of steam from the espresso machine, the way the cafe’s glass door chimed exactly at 8:00 a.m. on weekdays. At twenty-eight, she balanced two part‑time jobs—an afternoon barista at Little Meridian and an evening clerk at the neighborhood bookstore—to keep her rent paid while finishing night classes for a certification she hoped would lead to something steadier.