??? POV
"I'd like an Oreo Frappuccino," The girl simply said as she pulled out her wallet." Your name?" I said, my marker and plastic cup and ready. "Oh, Abi," she says. I froze. It's been a month or so since she's texted me. "Sir, are you—are you okay?" She questions. "Oh! Shit—yea I'm fine, thanks," I replied, quickly writing her name.
I made her frap all by myself, and when she got back the cup, she stared at it for a while. "Sir, it's funny," she said, smiling a little. "What is?" I asked. "My name is spelled correctly for the first time in Starbucks," she replied. "Yea I don't know," I said, quickly walking away before she could say anything else.
"Yo, is that the girl you gave you number to?" My friend asked, trying not to laugh. "It's been so long!" "Shut up!" I whispered, signaling him to zip his mouth. "She doesn't even realize it's me, goddammit!"
ВЫ ЧИТАЕТЕ
The Starbucks Cup
Короткий рассказIt could be anybody. Multiple people had taken turns to make my coffee. I was puzzled by the eight digit number on my cup. Who on earth would want to talk to me?
