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Rated: E · Short Story · Comedy · #866306
Going to Starbucks takes knowing the menu
It was one of those days, I just felt down and one gray hair away from being fully depressed. I knew what I needed, get out and go shopping! New shoes were my only hope.

I went out the door and in my car with visions of new shoes dancing in my head. When I got to the mall, I went straight to Shoe World, no stopping me now.

After the initial obligatory browse, with my best “I’m just looking face,” I saw the shoes that had my name jumping out at me and screaming “buy me, buy me!”

They were just the thing I needed, sawdust colored, cloth, toeless, clogs with a two-inch heel, the kind you just slip on and go.

I couldn’t wait to put them on. Once outside of Shoe World, I took them out of their box, putting my old shoes in their place. I slipped on my new ones and wiggled my toes.

I felt better already.

I looked up and that’s when I saw it, a Starbucks.
Now I have to make a little confession, I’ve never been in a Starbucks. Well, I thought, no time like the present. Okay clogs; start walking.
It was the aroma that I first noticed, so rich and very inviting. Young people sat at little metal tables drinking from paper cups and engaged in small talk.

I walked up to the counter. I have never seen so many different names of coffee. I didn’t know there were so many different kinds.
“May I help you?” A young man of about eighteen asked from behind the counter.
Suddenly I was stymied, frozen in my new clogs and not sure where to turn or what to say. The young man from behind the counter may have said something else to me but I did not hear. I just stared in amazement at the menu, my lips starting to tremble.

I looked to my left and to my right with out moving my head. Looking for some form of help from who ever may have offered, but none came. My hands gripped the counter top. I could feel little droplets of perspiration forming on my brow.

Names from the huge menu jumped out attacking me, Espresso, Latte, Cappuccio, Cafe Au Lait, Mocha Valencia. I started to swoon. I felt dazed. Was it the change in altitude from the new two-inch heels?
”Vanilla Caramel.” I said in a horse whisper, sounding more like a plea than a request. A supplication to the menu god.
The young man behind the counter looked suspicious. He looked to his left at a co-worker, asked something under his breath and turned back to me.
“What size?”
“Small.” I choked out.
“Do you want it hot or cold?”
I haven’t a clue to what I’m ordering and he’s asking if I want a temperature setting.
“Hot!”
I bent my head down in shame and looked at my toes, they felt exposed.
Maybe I should have got combat boots instead.

He handed me my order. I don’t remember how much it was, all I wanted to do was to get out while the getting out was good. I made it back to my car and with drink in hand I took a sip. All and all it was very good. Very good for a cup of hot milk that is.

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