Hey babes!
May is unquestioningly the hardest month of the year for me, and this year was triply so. So to celebrate it being over, I decided to go a little crazy and launch this silly little drabble I've been sitting on. It's not been preread or beta'd, so if it's rough I'm sorry! This is some daily fun to celebrate jumping back into writing after the crazy last few months I've had.
Okay, without further ado, let's jump in. This is EPOV.
1
6:02 a.m.
The coffee shop on the corner of Lexington and 3rd is the best damn coffee shop in this whole city. It's the only place to get decent black coffee, the kind dark enough to never be labeled "fruity", and they serve the best damn muffins I've ever eaten.
Unfortunately for me, everyone else in the city knows this too.
It's packed when I step inside, and though my uniform usually gets me ahead of the line, today it's so backed up no one even notices.
"Back the fuck up, pal!"
The man in front of me hasn't even turned to look at me, he's only sensed I've stepped within elbowing distance. I don't move, and when he shifts his arm in my direction, I clear my throat.
Angrily, he looks up past his sunglasses and turns toward me. The moment his eyes land on my uniform, the color leaves his cheeks.
"Uh, sorry," he chokes out, getting out of line as he slips away from me. I watch him retreat to the back of the coffee shop and barely resist rolling my eyes.
Not everyone responds so obviously to cops, but I can't help wondering what the guy is guilty of that makes him so nervous of me.
Either way, it's not my problem for much longer. I'm nearly off my shift, and all I want is a cup of coffee to get me through the last leg of it before I go home and crash.
Despite the thick crowd, the line moves relatively quickly, and before I know it, I'm at the counter trying to speak over the din. The poor girl behind the register is frantic, and I wonder if it's her first day.
"Sorry, that was a half what?" she asks, looking up at me with panicked eyes, pen poised over a cold-beverage cup. I shake my head at her.
"Black coffee, hot."
She blinks at me twice, and when she doesn't move, I nod toward the cup in her hands. She looks down, and I see a blush come over her cheeks. "Yes, of course. Okay."
She puts down the plastic cup and reaches for a paper one. "Room for cream?"
I shake my head. "No."
But I see her mark it on my cup anyway. I barely resist rolling my eyes.
"I'll get a blueberry muffin, too." I tell her, hoping that this isn't asking too much. She punches in my order, and I slide over ten dollars, stuffing the change she hands me back into the tip jar. I watch warily as she turns to pour my cup of coffee, leaving way too much room. I nearly lose it when she reaches for a carrot-cake muffin.
"Blueberry, Jess!" the second barista calls to her. Jess looks up at the girl behind the espresso machine, who is somehow masterfully fixing four drinks at once. Her short brown hair is pulled back from her face as she focuses on her task, but somehow she's still managing to monitor Jess as well.
"Oh, right!" Jess says, turning back to the case. I want to thank the second barista, but she's disappearing into the back before I can get the words out. Jess turns to me, sliding my coffee and muffin across the counter.
"Anything else?" she asks. I shake my head.
"Have a good day," I tell her, turning to push my way out of the coffee shop. The next person steps up, and I hear the beginning of what seems to be an unnecessarily complicated order.
It's going to be a long day for poor Jess.