On a whim, I try a new drink at a Corporate Coffeeshop Chain That Will Not be Named. It's five minutes to ten and we're the only ones in the shop. Someone's scatting in the background, boop-boop-ba-doop-eee, the kind that makes me want to dance and do the spirit fingers. I'm humming along aimlessly.
The barista turns to me. She's got her brown-red hair looped into two pigtails.
She pushes my passion-fruit drink towards me.
I automatically push my three dollars towards her.
She says, "No, just take it."
Boop-boop-ba-doo-wah,
"What?" I'm asking, the three dollars crumpling in my fist.
"It's on the house,"
"I'm not taking it for free," I say.
"Why not? Life happens."
I've no idea how to take that, so I silently hand her two dollars and imagine I have a not-taking-no-for-an-answer look.
She accepts it with a smile. At this point, two people had walked in, wearing what looked like matching red sweatsuits.
I didn't stay long enough to see if she put the two dollars in her pocket or not.