The shop is a flurry of activity as the morning rush hits its peak. The baristas dash from place to place, madly working to prepare drinks and food. A long line of people stretches out the door and a string of cars fills the drive through, mostly men, all looking at the same thing.... Anastasia, the 6'7 goth girl who worked the till. She stood behind the counter, an imposing void against the bright shop colors, calm and still amidst the sea of chaos that surrounded her. She looked down with eyes devoid of expression as the guy in front of her stammered through his order.

Guy: C-c-can I get.... the uh.... the late.... with extra... m-m-milk? Anastasia remains totally impassive, staring blankly at the guy as we sweats and wrings his shirt in his hands. Anastasia: Extra.... milk? she asks in a flat tone. (Great, another one. Quit fucking stammering and get it over with.)Guy: A-a-and maybe.... maybe your num-Anastasia: No... Anything else sir? She looked down the line and saw the other hopefuls. Cocky wanna be tough guys and slouching mouth breathers waiting for their chance to take a shot at the 'goth mommy' from the coffee shop. Some days Anastasia didn't mind, she was worthy of every bit of the attention after all, but recently it had been getting on her nerves.Anastasia: your order will be ready at the counter. Now fuck outta my sight. She says in a flat tone, looking uninterested as she sends the hopeful guy off. Next! She calls loudly.