Smoking Break
Who: Márcio, none specified, anyone may pop in.
When: August 13th (late afternoon)
Where: The Coffee Shoppe
What: Afternoon shift on a summer day, the Portuguese man is left with a surprisingly empty cafe. Peace? He sorely hopes.
Márcio Cruz Santos was a type of man who took things in stride. Punctual, but never in a hurry. Patient, but always hiding discomfort. Yet, there was something about the current situation that peeved him greatly. Because of irony... and how for some odd reason (and the unorthodox schedule he tended to have) he was given the afternoon shift at the Coffee Shoppe. Apparently someone had quit, and he was the only other person available for that section of time. That and he wasn't the type to make excuses to avoid it. He eagerly accepted the extra cash, without the excessive ass kissing.
So the time he would have had practicing his guitar-playing and writing lyrics, he was stuck behind the cafe's counter, wearing the stereotypical black apron (which fitted too well to his already thin frame). It was probably the most boring time of the day. Who'd want coffee at this time?
Exactly. Who'd want a piping hot cup of coffee when they could go to the Starbucks across the street? While the mermaid branding mocked his shop's smaller space, he watched as people went in and out of the place. Once empty hands, hazel-eyes spotted their hands now gripping onto ice cold drinks. From protein-filled fruity smoothies, to crushed ice cream and sugar coffee (which looked to be more like ice cream), these afternooners would not dare to have a hot drink for a semi-hot day.
While he enjoyed the cool A/C, he did not enjoy the emptiness of the small establishment. The smell of coffee was beginning to grow stale for him, and the light jazz that played in the background began to eat away at him. This only tempted the young man to walk out to get some fresh air. He however could not leave the counter. Boss' policy. For once, he felt that it was reasonable enough to screw that policy. Just once. He was young, and though he wasn't the most energetic and outgoing person, he did have his limits. That and he knew that his whole body now permeated of roasted coffea arabica.
Of course, he decided it be best to just use his break now. He was a total pansy at the thought of being an anti of society.
Things put away, he clocked out for his break, waving off at his fellow barista who was busy texting to her boyfriend. Or on the Tweeting site, whatever it was called. Stepping out the doors, he allowed the rays of the sun to warm his body, causing a relieved exhale to escape him. His hands were quick. Pulling out a black cancer stick, a lighter, and putting the two together ended up with a nice long drag, exhaling a light cloud of smoke into the air. Oh how he needed it.
Taking a looking at his watch, he took note of the time. 4:35 PM. His break would end at a little after 5.
Márcio smirked lightly.
He had time.
When: August 13th (late afternoon)
Where: The Coffee Shoppe
What: Afternoon shift on a summer day, the Portuguese man is left with a surprisingly empty cafe. Peace? He sorely hopes.
Márcio Cruz Santos was a type of man who took things in stride. Punctual, but never in a hurry. Patient, but always hiding discomfort. Yet, there was something about the current situation that peeved him greatly. Because of irony... and how for some odd reason (and the unorthodox schedule he tended to have) he was given the afternoon shift at the Coffee Shoppe. Apparently someone had quit, and he was the only other person available for that section of time. That and he wasn't the type to make excuses to avoid it. He eagerly accepted the extra cash, without the excessive ass kissing.
So the time he would have had practicing his guitar-playing and writing lyrics, he was stuck behind the cafe's counter, wearing the stereotypical black apron (which fitted too well to his already thin frame). It was probably the most boring time of the day. Who'd want coffee at this time?
Exactly. Who'd want a piping hot cup of coffee when they could go to the Starbucks across the street? While the mermaid branding mocked his shop's smaller space, he watched as people went in and out of the place. Once empty hands, hazel-eyes spotted their hands now gripping onto ice cold drinks. From protein-filled fruity smoothies, to crushed ice cream and sugar coffee (which looked to be more like ice cream), these afternooners would not dare to have a hot drink for a semi-hot day.
While he enjoyed the cool A/C, he did not enjoy the emptiness of the small establishment. The smell of coffee was beginning to grow stale for him, and the light jazz that played in the background began to eat away at him. This only tempted the young man to walk out to get some fresh air. He however could not leave the counter. Boss' policy. For once, he felt that it was reasonable enough to screw that policy. Just once. He was young, and though he wasn't the most energetic and outgoing person, he did have his limits. That and he knew that his whole body now permeated of roasted coffea arabica.
Of course, he decided it be best to just use his break now. He was a total pansy at the thought of being an anti of society.
Things put away, he clocked out for his break, waving off at his fellow barista who was busy texting to her boyfriend. Or on the Tweeting site, whatever it was called. Stepping out the doors, he allowed the rays of the sun to warm his body, causing a relieved exhale to escape him. His hands were quick. Pulling out a black cancer stick, a lighter, and putting the two together ended up with a nice long drag, exhaling a light cloud of smoke into the air. Oh how he needed it.
Taking a looking at his watch, he took note of the time. 4:35 PM. His break would end at a little after 5.
Márcio smirked lightly.
He had time.