A barista sets down a latte and calls out the name: Jessica. Michael walks in, grabs it without thinking, takes a sip, and says, “Uh, this isn’t my drink.”

The barista, calm but confused, leans in and asks, “Are you Jessica?” Michael deadpans back, “No, I’m Michael.”

The barista freezes. A slow, silent stare. Then smash cut to black.