holiday

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.