When I was a green bean we had this regular that would come in everyday and get a hot tall matcha with soy milk. He was nice to everyone and everyone loved him. He was an older man who was around his 60s. We became really close because he was the same ethnicity as me, and everyone would joke around that he's my dad or something. He just became a really big part of my Starbucks life. Until one day, he stopped coming. I would wait for him every Monday night and he would never show up. One day I heard that he was robbed and killed in his own home and it broke my heart into a million pieces. He was such a great person and he didn't deserve to go like that.