Papers and Pizza
"No offence, but you've been standing here for fifty minutes just glaring at the rain. What the hell did it do to you?"
Adam starts slightly. The guy next to him hasn't made eye contact – he's still scrolling through something on his phone – but the question is clearly aimed at him. Adam is only just covered by the café awning, the rain splashing at his feet. Apparently trying to make one cup of coffee last three hours had been seen as unacceptable by the café owners, who had proceeded to kick him out.
Unfortunately, it was raining.
More unfortunately, his final paper was in his bag and he couldn't afford the money it would cost to print it out again from one of the money-grabbing, crappy library printers.
The boy, whose head was shaved into a buzz cut and radiated the word "delinquent", had been squeezed under the tiny awning for longer than Adam though.
"I could ask you the same question."
The boy looked up slowly from his phone and raised an eyebrow. Adam felt his knees go weak and his internal organs shrink inside him. If looks could kill and dig your grave and bury you.
"No, really," the boy said. "Do enlighten me."
Adam regarded him sceptically before sighing. "My final paper is in my bag."
The boy seemed to consider this. "My dick dad forgot to pick me up."
They met each other's eyes slowly, then:
"Do you think they deliver pizza here?"