this morning #813.

this morning, the two men standing in front of me in line were taking their sweet time figuring out their coffee order, hemming & hawing & swishing & pawing at each other. “macadamia milk? sometimes you feel like a nut. sometimes you don’t. right, honey?” across the counter, the aloof teenage barista smiled back at them uncomfortably. i was going to give them sixty seconds more before i finally intervened. lucky for them, they made up their minds & peacefully moved aside. “the gays. amirite?” the previously-serene barista snapped to attention & snapped back at me. “what’d you say?” i had no coherent response. he shamed me with his stare. “that’s what i thought.”