I stared into the lake of milk I was steaming. The steam swirled around my head and for a moment I must have gotten lost in the dull serenity of it all. I glanced at the thermometer; somewhere near very-very-that's-way-too-hot degrees. I scowled. That was probably a little warmer than the guy in the black shirt wanted. But, I smiled at him and slipped a sleeve on his cup and said, "Careful, it's a little hot." That was white chocolate Mocha with no whip number 7 of the day. A regular came in and sat at the counter. "Your usual?" I said. She nodded and proceeded to lecture me on her views of world traveling and money spending. I nodded, shook my head, smiled, frowned, listened, interjected. The door jingled. A man hastily strode in asking for directions. Then he hastily strode out. The door jingled behind him. I caught a whiff of a favorite song floating through the air. "Summer came like cinnamon, so sweet..." My feet were killing me and my neck ached, I had drank a couple Americanos and perhaps a tea or two and my head was buzzing-- but I still felt good. The sun lazily fell through the windows at lovely angles. People talked. I ground more coffee beans. Cars drove by. The door jingled again. What? Another 16oz white chocolate mocha? Oh. With whip?

Of course.


Joshua Keel said...


jen said...

glamorous. makes me want to be a barista. ..