One late night finds Robin making persimmon cheesecake. There’s something that he loves with pairing flavours more traditional of east Asia with western desserts. One day, he’ll make something with durian, but today is not the day.

(Despite the stereotype, a lot of asians don’t like durian—his sister is a case in point.)

These persimmons are ripe, and cutting through them feels almost like some kind of firm jelly. He’ll have to reduce the sugar in the cheesecake to balance it out, and perhaps even add a bit of yoghurt to cut through the sweetness. Maybe some slivers of bitter candied orange?

At the familiar sound of the door open (and the whoosh of outside traffic), Robin sets down his knife, pulls off his gloves, and quickly heads to the front of the counter.

“Oh, Oliver,” he says, smiling. “How can I help you this evening?”

To his surprise, Oliver takes off his sunglasses, revealing light brown eyes that match his light brown hair. “Evening,” Oliver says, smiling back. His eyes are bright. “What were you doing?”

“Cakes,” Robin answers. He waves to an empty counter section. “They usually sell out by this time, unfortunately. But I could set aside an order for you.”

Oliver’s face falls. “Nah,” he mumbles. “I wanted something without any caffeine—I need to be up early tomorrow.”

“How about strawberry milk?” Robin suggests. “It’s fresh strawberries, full cream milk—or any alternative. I can make it hot, perfect before bed.”

Oliver licks his lips. “Oh, yeah.” He pulls out a plastic jar, smiling uncertainly.

“Great, you remembered,” Robin grins. “You don’t have to bring this cup—a lot of people like to bring their own travel mugs and bottles too.”

Robin sets the milk to heat up. The last of the jammy strawberries-and-sugar go into the plastic jar. The milk goes up most of the way, and Robin uses a long, thin spoon to mix it. The entire affair is then topped with milk foam.

“Brings back my childhood and Nesquik Strawberry,” Oliver says. He takes a sip through the straw, and his eyes brighten. “Tastes like real strawberries,” he says with a grin. “Thanks.”

“Ah—wait,” Robin quickly says. He takes a packaged cookie and slides it over. “Have it—it’s the last one, and I’m closing up soon anyway.”

Oliver’s eyes light up. “Milk and cookies?”

Robin smiles indulgently. “Brings back childhood, doesn’t it?”

Oliver bites his bottom lip. “Thanks, Robin.” He carefully takes the cookie. “Have a good evening.”

Robin bids him farewell, and breezes through the final prep work for the night.