Òyì nke e mepụtara

The Clockwork Barista Elias stood before the copper-plated contraption, wiping a smudge of dark, sticky grease from his cheek. The machine was a beautiful, precarious mess of interlocking gears, fragile glass tubes, and pressurized steam valves. "Are you ready, old girl?" he whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of excitement and dread. "Will you finally brew the perfect espresso, or just explode like last Tuesday?" He took a deep breath and flipped the primary switch. Instantly, the worksho