Wow, 200 words is HARD. I had to do some serious cutting/editing, as originally this was nearly 300 words. I didn't count the title for the 200 word count.
A cup of coffee
Hot foam flooded over the ceramic cup, covering the distracted man's hand. The cup shattered on the floor as he shouted. He clutched his hand between his legs.
"You alright?" the young woman in the qípáo uniform asked, standing on her toes to see his hand across the counter.
Despite the pain, his heart fluttered at her concern. He stuck his hand under cold water.
"Ah, it ain't nothing. Happens more often then people know. See this?"
He pulled up his shirt. A scar splattered his stomach. "A pot shattered. Sprayed coffee everywhere."
The woman inhaled sharply at seeing the man's bare chest. Her face flushed and then she giggled.
"I can relate - I work at my parent's restaurant. Look." She pulled down her collar nearly to her breast, exposing delicate skin blemished by a scar. "Hot oil."
Now he blushed at her exposure, then laughed nervously. "Guess we have somethin' in common. What's your name?" he asked.
"Fiona," she replied. "And yours?"
"Jonathan. Jonathan Somerset. Pleased to meet you, Ms. Fiona."
He stuck out his watery hand. She paused a moment, and then shook it firmly, laughing as Jonathan yelped in pain. Then they were both laughing.