"Good morning, may I take your order?"
The man's voice crackled over the drive thru speaker system. It was 6:30 on a Saturday morning, and I was the only customer at the Chick-fil-A so far.
"Oh shut up," I mumble under my breath.
"Ma'am?" The voice asked, sounding confused.
"Nothing, just... just get me a chicken biscuit."
"Anything else?"
"No!" I speed up to the window before he can tell me the price. I already know it.
I stomp on the breaks and my car squeals to a stop.
The cashier isn't as old as I thought. He looks to be a year or two older than me; probably in college already.
"One chicken biscuit," He says, producing a to-go bag. I reach for my wallet and pull out a five dollar bill.
"It's on the house," He says, flashing a white smile.
"I have money-" I grunt. I've never been one to accept gifts. I don't need anyone's charity.
"So you're saying you want to pay?"
"I'm saying I want my chicken buscuit."
He shrugs and pokes a few keys on the cash register, "That will be...
your life story and today's thoughts."
"I don't have time for this," I lie. I have absolutely nothing going on today. The only things on my todo list were to lock myself in my bedroom and stuff my face with Ben & Jerry.
He held up the to-go-bag again, "I've got at least three hours until people usually start showing up."
"I'll call and complain if you don't-"
He suddenly reaches up and rips off his name tag. I realize that I didn't know his name so couldn't report him specifically.
"I can still complain," I mumble pathetically.
"You could complain to me," he says, offering another smile.
I just sit there a minute, staring into his emerald eyes. If his carmel brown hair hadn't been brush to the side it would have probably veiled his eyes completely.
Oh whatever, it's not like I'll ever see this guy again. I turn off the car, knowing I'd be there awhile. He wants to hear my story? Fine. He's gonna get what he asked for.