team spider

ix.

please point out spelling and/or grammar mistakes! i appreciate them

>><<

The crunch of fallen leaves beneath Peter's shoes echoed through the empty streets, bouncing off of anything it could. He smacked his mint gum a couple of times as he stuffed his nose in a book, trying to read the delicate words while trying not to run into anything. His cheeks were tinted red from the chilly autumn air, and his breath came out in puffs of fog, billowing out into the sweet wind.

It was Saturday, Peter's favorite day of the week. Mainly because they're was no school, but he also loved it since he had to go to his job. Most people don't like going to work, but Peter wasn't like most people, after all.

The seventeen year old worked in a small coffee shop on main street. It was family owned and run, with the exception of Peter, who's late parents had been friends with the old couple who ran the establishment. He was a barista, and he made the most bomb-ass drinks.

"Good morning, Mr. Lee," Peter greeted as he walked in the door, removing his scarf and coat and hanging them up on a hook.

"Morning Peter," Mr. Lee, a.k.a Stan, replied, looking up from his newspaper. "You're here early, I see."

"Yeah, I woke up earlier than usual today," the teen laughed, slipping his orange apron on over his clothes. "How's your wife?"

"She's doing mediocre; she had her seventh round of chemotherapy yesterday."

"She'll pull through. She's an awfully strong woman," Peter said.

"Thank you, lad, but I don't think she will," Stan replied solemnly.

The conversation quickly died out after that, with Stan going back to scanning the newspaper and Peter readying his workspace for the day. He tore open a new package of paper cups, stacking them up next to the register. He emptied the tip jar and split it evenly between the four drawers; each barista had their own drawer that their paychecks and tips were divided into.

The bell above the doorway dinged loudly as the door was pushed open, letting the freezing air into the coffee shop. Peter looked up to see a boy—wait we don't know their gender—somebody walk into the shop.

"Hi, what can I get for you today?" Peter asked sweetly, striding up to the register.

"Yes, um hi—can i please get a large caramel iced coffee please?" they asked.

"Sure you can, will that be all?"

"Yes."

"Your total is three dollars and fifty cents, and please correct me if I'm wrong, but Sir?" Peter said, biting his lips nervously.

"Yeah, sir," the customer replied, their smile widening.

"All righty then, can I have a name?"

"It's A-Austin."

"Okay Austin, your drink will come out down there."

Peter turned around and began making the drink, smiling when he heard the clang if coins dropping into the tip jar. He busied himself with the order, making sure to add extra caramel to the bottom because it's way better that way.

"Austin?" he called out after finishing the drink, sliding onto the pick-up counter.

"Thank you," Austin said gratefully, taking the drink.

"My pleasure."

Austin left and Peter walked back over to the register, eyebrows furrowing when he saw a small slip of paper in the tip jar. He took it out and unfolded it, smiling to himself as he read the scrawled lettering.