Paper cups and Fruit Punches

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What actually started with a prompt (dilapidated) given by my friend, ended here. A short story narrating the amusing tale of a cashier and her customer.

*****

All she wished for at that very moment was to get out of her wretched inferno of employment. Typing on the oleaginous buttons of the cash register with her newly painted acrylic nails (which was considered as a luxury for her co workers, but the girl cognized that it was a girly authority that every woman had the right to enjoy once in a while).

The girl spared a look behind herself, on the now dilapidated wall clock. She was certain with the amount of oil it has been collecting throughout it's stay next to the ventilator that's exempting the pinguid air, the glass would soon be so yellow that the now vague numbers would be nothing but some useless incomprehensible blurs. Albeit Marinette could really care less about whatever happened with the clock. It was none of her concern, really. All she focused on was that she'd be able to escape this place in a few minutes now.

Seeing that her shift was soon coming to an end, and she'd be able to leave the western embranchment of Pete's(the one famous cafe cuisine between the middle class people of her town), her supposed workplace, and go back to her apartment to throw herself dead on the couch, or even on the bed, the girl surely was relieved.

Only a few more customers to attend and voilà, she'd be off on her way.

Apparently, it must be amusing how one mere thought could bring such an extensive grin to one's face.

"Ahh what's up with that toothy simper huh? Did ya found y'er dream prince and never even mentioned it to your best friend in the whole wide world?" An ombre haired girl carrying a tray filled with French fries who'd just came out of the kitchen door inquired, feigning drama and pretending to faint only for a moment to strengthen her previous narration about being hurt.

The other girl only rolled her eyes and took her time to think of a sassily witty retort. But when none came, the girl only verbalized her thoughts in the simplest way possible, laced with an evident amount of frustration, "believe me Als, I've got anything but enough time to waste it on some man. I'm just happy that I'd be able to get myself outta this wretched place soon."
Alya rolled her eyes with an amused grin plastered on her face and was about to throw back another comment, but a desperate scream from their manager who reminded the auburn haired girl about the customer waiting for the French fries prevented her from doing so and she was warded off by the girl at the cash register. But before recoiling, the girl with glasses didn't fail to throw a comment that caused the cashier to almost choke on her own saliva.
"Don't worry, this conversation might end for now. But I'm still determined to set ya up."

Albeit it was only a whisper and not a hubbub thrown by her friend.

Marinette sighed, trying to revive her antecedent somewhat gratified temper. But when it didn't draw nigh again, she exhaled afresh.

Why can't she go home already?

Marinette's eyes widened when her supposedly last customer of the day approached the cash counter. And well, let's just say she was not expecting such a familiar yet foreign face around.
He had blond hair, and was it slightly messy at that (which only did a miracle to his attractiveness, oh yes), his skin tanned a soft brown which Marinette couldn't lay a finger on whether it was artificial or natural. And his eyes, oh virid eyes that had a brisk, malapert glow hidden behind them.
And at that moment, Marinette would swear if one has a boyfriend and he doesn't look like this, well the girl is surely missing.

"How can I help you sir?"

"I put an order of three burgers, a fry, and fried onion rings along with a glass of water. It has been quite some time and the order hasn't come yet. So, I was wondering if it's possible to pack the food now so that I'd be able to take it away with me."

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: Nov 08, 2022 ⏰

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