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Post by Christiane Christiansen on Apr 4, 2007 0:54:32 GMT 7
[/i], as she loved to call it, that, somehow, seemed to make everything a little better. How could one refuse such simple pleasures? Well, the most controversial question at that point, however, was: how long did it truly take for one to simply grab a cup of coffee? In Starbucks: about twenty minutes. Everywhere else: Thirty bloody seconds. What could the all American citizen do, however, or in this case, what could the semi all American citizen do? Starbucks's coffee was simply heaven like; drinking it almost felt like flirting with a beautiful stranger: hazardous, tiring, pleasurable, exciting. If it were not for the fact that the employees treated everybody like damn crap, and the prices were perhaps too high for Christiane's liking, she would have spent much more time there, reading and studying like a fanatic; she simply loved Starbucks. Christiane grunted once more in annoyance at the sight of the long queue that was ahead of her; no math was needed to know that it would take her at least, well, a day or two to get her precious coffee, but she was an addict in need: a stubborn one, at that. She believed nothing could heal her tremendous headache, and her suffocating need to read and re-read Salome but a good cup of coffee. If only that line moved a little faster, she thought, and if only her pocket was not so light. "I have to get to class in thirty minutes,", she lied to the cashier, hoping he would let her get ahead of the line. "You're not allowed to skip that line, kid," he replied. Kid? KID? I'm as old as your mama, you jerk! That's not a very pleasant thought, you know..."This is gonna take forever," she said with a violent murmur, checking her clock. She had better get accustomed to standing up for long; it did not seem that she was going to get going anytime soon.[/ul]
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Post by Bobby Ryan on Apr 4, 2007 1:20:47 GMT 7
The warmth and scent of freshly ground coffee beans enveloped Bobby as she walked into her beloved Starbucks. Slowly washing away her feeling of anger. Anger over the fact that she not only had to buy herself a new Banjo after one of Becca's loser friends broke it, but one of the strings on the brand new Banjo broke about an hour earlier when she was playing Duelling Banjo's. Her anger was then heightened when she saw that the line was longer then usual. She was never usually in Huntley this early so thats probably why its never really been that long. Today was special though. Today was the day she was going to see Ainsley and Keith's new apartment. They shared it with someone else but Bobby hadn't met them yet so she didn't know who. As far as she was concerned, the apartment belonged to Ainsley and keith.
Reluctantly, she walked to the back of the line but she wanted to make it clear that she didn't want to be there. She would have left but this was the only place in all of Huntley that served good coffee, and she wanted her morning caffeine hit. No scratch that. She needed her morning caffeine hit. If she didn't get it then the way she was feeling now would be nothing compared to the way she could be without her coffee. It would be like hell on earth. Which was why she got into the line. She might have hated the world right now, but not enough to raise hell. Well not yet anyway.
Humming 'If I Were A Rich Man' from Fiddler on the Roof while fiddling with the zip on her jacket, time seemed to go excruciatingly slow. The line hadn't moved at all and it had been a good 6 or so minutes. She popped her head out of the line and stared daggers into the barista, who saw her face and rushed off to finish the coffee, which should have been finished 5 minutes earlier. Bobby knew how long coffee took to make and it was never this long. No matter how delicious the coffee was.
She impatiently tapped her foot on the ground while looking at her watch every couple of seconds. The more impatient she became the longer time seemed to drag. Then finally the line started moving. 'If I Were A Rich Man' continued to play inside her head while she took a step forward each time the line got shorter. "Finally" She mumbled to herself as the girl in front of her was finally getting served. Next it was her turn, then she could go and see the apartment. The day was finally starting to look up.
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Post by Christiane Christiansen on Apr 4, 2007 19:58:07 GMT 7
[/b] Christiane mumbled to herself, sighing as she finally faced the dim brown and black wooden counter. Fine seven heavens, how she was delightfully relieved and contented that she was about to be served, now; she candidly did not care about the fact that her pocket would soon be lighter than every ruined, penniless window shopper in Huntley was: Starbucks's coffee was indisputably worth every change - yes, change, that was how broke she was, at nine past bloody thirty in the morning - she had in her pocket. However, she was not often as broke as she was then, but after moving in with Rebecca and Keith, she had splurged, too much perhaps, for her own good, spending ridiculously great sums of money on books, books, and well, more books. But then again, how often did she get to move in with Rebecca? It was worth it, she thought, since they were good friends and the rent was suitable for her. Plus, her mother would surely send her money, soon; she always worried too much about Christiane and feared that Huntley slash scary big city of death in the eyes of her mother would swallow and spit her. "One caramel macchiato please, and please make it fast," Christiane said, getting the change out of her back pocket, placing exactly 2.80 dollars in coins on the counter. Smiling innocently in a What? I did nothing kind of way to the brow raising cashier, Christiane laid her elbows on the counter, its draftiness making her more alert, more watchful. Intently, fixedly gazing at her future cup of coffee, carelessly held by the waiter to the coffee machine, Christiane keenly, hungrily welcomed the scrumptious smells and the appetizing aromas into her nasals and her lazy idle mind, momentarily causing her attention to get keener, and her patience lesser. A beautiful smile was drawn on her light brown lips as the waiter finally came back to the counter, holding a pallid gray cup in his hand, smiling warmly at Christiane. "This is for you, ma'am," he said, handing the cup of coffee to a mid aged lady standing right beside her. "And this is for you. That's a good Caramel macchiato, I assure you," he said, as another waiter gave him Christiane's cup of coffee. "Thank you," she said, her voice clearly tired. Christiane childishly held onto her Caramel macchiato, closing her eyes, the flavorsome aroma of the coffee penetrating her mind once more. She did not care if coffee destroyed her brain cells and made her sleepless; she was sleepless already! She had spend her night reading, studying, and watching old movies for crying out loud: her brain was pretty much damn demolished, already; at least, coffee tasted and made her feel good. Turning around, hoping to get a good seat on the comfy sofas, Christiane accidentally bumped into a girl who seemed to be slightly taller than she was, her coffee thus spilling all over her shirt. At that point, she honestly did not know whether she should apologize to the girl, or blame her because it was her fault that her coffee, her precious coffee that she had been waiting for so long for, was gone to waste. Sadly looking at her now semi empty cup of coffee, Christiane's eyebrows arced, their curve turning into a dim, sad frown. What could she do, now? Apologize? Or freak out? "My coffee, she said, gasping. "Damnit, I am so sorry, I really didn't see you there," she said, hoping the stranger would not yell at her. "I just- I really am sorry."Damnit, I need my coffee! Don't you say that! I don't have any money to get another one. You'll live.[/ul]
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