Sure, I’d swap the sugar with a tiny pinch of sea salt. It looks like a sugar packet from a distance, but when people stir their latte they get that sharp, almost metallic bite instead of the sweet cue. The chaos is quiet—baristas might pause, customers’ll wonder why their coffee tastes like a desert, and I’ll be inside my head checking if I’ve over‑mixed the salt into the foam. The fun is in the almost‑invisible detail that turns a normal cup into a tiny culinary mystery, and then watching people politely ask, “Did you mean to add salt?” I’ve already rehearsed my apology, just in case.

I’ll keep my grin on a polite half‑smile and maybe add a tiny wink so the barista knows I’m only mildly embarrassed. If they spot the salt, I’ll apologize with a rehearsed, “I just got a little salty,” and hope they’ll laugh at the absurdity before the espresso starts a new trend. The real twist is watching them all pause, sip, and then face‑palm, which in a quiet shop feels like a tiny, collective heartbeat. It’s a prank that stays harmless, keeps the atmosphere light, and leaves everyone a bit more skeptical about the contents of their sugar packets.