For a week now, every day around 3 o’clock, I walk down a few blocks to the nearby Starbucks. This is the highlight of my day for many reasons. Well, first off, there’s the fact that I’m a serious coffee addict, and also, I’m quite infatuated by my barista.
Well I suppose the barista team, but anyways… I come in, hoping to transform into Holly Golightly as soon as I pick up that environmentally friendly, mermaid stamped, Holy Grail. I always rehearse my order in my head, adoring to use ridiculous starbucks-ology in the process. (Wet; less dry foam on the cappuccino, upside-down; a caramel macchiato with the syrups on the top so it mixes together…etc).
Lately, there are three baristas on at this time of the day, a teddy-bear cute barista-man, a tough, but friendly looking barista-girl, and, last but certainly not least, the charismatic and quite handsome barista-man.
All this to say, that after I ordered my tall-nonfat-wet-cappuccino, that the charming barista-man asked “Isn’t it normally a double?” and of course, I am currently walking on cloud nine.
So, I ask, is this too much of a romantic comedy cliché?
