black coffee

chapter one - ella

also i forgot to mention this'll probably be mostly dialogue because i can do that.

——

"welcome to the george street coffee shop, how may i help you?" asked roger, the only cashier at george's on sundays, therefore the only cashier i knew.

"hey roger, i'll just have my usual, a-"

"medium black coffee and cinnamon roll, i know, i know," roger said, cracking a smile, "but on another note, do you have the psych homework? i may or may not have lost my notebook five minutes after class on friday, and i have no clue what i'm supposed to be doing."

"uh, roger?"

"yes, ella?"

"i'm not in psych."

"well, do you know somebody who does?"

"what do you think, roger, you're pretty much the only person from our school i've held a conversation with besides conner, not counting the awkward small talk people attempt to use as a conversation starter."

"well, the light pink hair doesn't exactly make you look approachable. and the piercings may not help, either."

"well fuck you, roger."

"bitch i don't swing that way. hell, neither of us swing that way."

"shut up. i'm too cute for you anyways."

"whatever, here's your coffee. that'll be $4.25."

"keep the change, you little shit," i said, chucking a five on the counter.

"fiesty. i like it," roger said, a small smirk forming on his face as he pulled out his phone and continued to scroll through his various social media accounts.

sighing, i walked over to my table, the small two-seater next to the doughnut display. i sat down, drinking my coffee, waiting for sheila to show up. after about three minutes of waiting and the sacrifice of my cinnamon roll to the floor, she showed up, looking as put-together as always, with her sundress and her lacy purse, a beauty next to my sweatpants and oversized t-shirt.

"hey," she said, flashing her infamous smile, putting her bag down next to her chair, "sorry i'm late. traffic was bitch today, and i was revising my paper earlier this morning."

"wait, you actually got up before ten?"

"of course, what did you expect? i always get up early."

"since when do you get up early?"

"...since yesterday."

"that's what i thought. so how was your week?"

"ugh, ella, don't even get me started. i've had way too much homework, and my stupid best friend is still trying to set me up with her cousin for the dance, because i'll just date any gay person i meet. i'm just really done right now," sheila said, angrily running her hands through her hair, forehead [adorably] scrunched up in the way i'd come to learn as the 'i'm going to brutally murder somebody soon' expression.

"just relax and rant away. my cinnamon bun succumbed to the floor's powers, but i've still got almost all of my coffee here."

"ugh, i can't believe you can drink pure poison."

"jesus, sheila, it's just black coffee."

"i know."

——

so this is my first chapter! i'm super excited for this story [and the bad puns that will undoubtedly be located in it]. as i mentioned at the start of the chapter, black coffee will be mostly dialogue because i really can't write to save a life and want to act like i actually can.