A Letter to Local Coffee Shop Girl

Dear Local Coffee Shop Girl,

You don’t know this, but last week when you greeted me warmly as I stood at the counter, making eye contact and smiling, my day was suddenly perfect. Though my afternoon to that point was full of agonizing life decisions such as which graduate school to attend and whether or not I should wash my jeans (seven days is cool, right?), your beaming smile and sweet voice instantly transported me to a land of warm sunshine, clean air, and cleaner laundry.

You were positively radiant. So much so that I stammered through my coffee order for the first time in my entire life. So much so that I’m willingly leaving this sentence fragment and the previous one unedited, because I'm starting to see there are bigger things in life than grammar. Well, that there are bigger things than grammar. I digress. My medium black iced coffee was excellent. Although it’s probably the easiest order one could ever receive (I suppose small black hot coffee might be a smidge easier), you made it perfectly, and I cannot tell you how much that speaks to your character. Starbucks at Target screws that one up every time.

As if this was not enough to improve my mood—which, by the way, it is—you proceeded to ask me how my day was and actually listened to the answer. Until that point in the day, the most discussion I had had was an enlightening conversation with my little brother about how crappy his music taste is (seriously, B... Nickelback sucks). Thank you. I was glad to hear that you were doing just as well, and I hope you kept the somewhat outrageous 50% tip I left.

I love you. Please be twenty-one.

Dan