Clorvex had never considered himself a romantic. He liked his feelings bottled, carbonated, and preferably labeled “Do Not Open Without Gloves”, but lately, things had changed. Specifically, his reputation.

After he had found “the list”, a few well-timed pep talks, a disastrous love triangle intervention, and one unintentionally tender moment with a weeping werewolf, Clorvex had become a respectable dating coach.

He didn’t plan to.  He had just told a customer, “If they ghost you after three texts, haunt them back with dignity,” and somehow that ended up on a mug. 

Then people started booking Love Consultations with him during the lunch rush.

Today, he was triple-booked.

“Clorvex,” Mira whispered from behind the counter, “why is there a werewolf speed dating event in the hallway?”

“They needed structure,” he said, calmly sipping an oat cappuccino. “Also, a sign-up sheet and I’m emotionally invested now.”

“Since when?”

“Since I met Barry, the vampire florist with seasonal allergies. He deserves love.”

Jo emerged from the storage room holding a heart-shaped mop. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not mopping up another glitter heart break-up.”

It was too late. Barry was mid-monologue at table four, weeping into a bouquet of cursed chrysanthemums.

“Just once,” he sobbed, “I’d like someone to admire my cuttings.”

Clorvex pulled out a clipboard. “Right. Emotional triage. Mira, herbal tea for heartbreak. Matteo, distraction latte. Jo…”

“No,” she said, holding up her mop like a boundary.

Clorvex beamed. “Perfect. You’re on mortal support.”

As the café dimmed into evening sparkle mode, Clorvex leaned against the counter, surprisingly proud.

A ghost had found love with a patron who liked haunted harmonica solos. Barry was laughing with someone who appreciated flower puns, and Clorvex didn’t feel quite so bottled up anymore.

Mira handed him a mug that said Love Guru.

He raised it.

“To chaos, love, and accidentally being good at feelings.”