She's right fucking there, man. What's wrong with you? Say something. She's not going to laugh at you. Nothing bad will happen. Shit, she just looked at you... didn't she? She probably knows what you're thinking. She's probably thinking, "great, this asshole is about to hit on me." And what's with that old lady? Why is she staring at you? What the hell kind of stare is that? Pity. That's what it is. Pity? Fuck you. I'm young and you're not. SHIT, that was a crappy thing to think. She's probably got dementia or some shit. Why do you always do this? Why does everyone have to be against you all the time? Who made you so goddamn important?
"Hi, can I help you?"
You need to to say something. Oh, Jesus. Hurry. It's just getting worse. Quit looking at the menu and look her in the fucking eyes. Just ask if she's having a good day. Or order something. DO IT!
"Um, yes. Hello."
Fucking brilliant move, playa. Jesus. Shit, you didn't really even say anything. It's hot. You're going to start sweating. You need to scratch the side of your nose. What's that smell? All the ambient chatter has become amplified. The people behind you are getting impatient. If they'd just shut the FUCK up for a second. You gotta do it.
"Sorry. I distracted. I mean, I was distracted. I'm sorry. I'd like a cup of tea."
She rolls her eyes.
"What kind of tea...?"
What the fuck? Is she fucking with you? How many different types of tea are there...
"We have English Breakfast, Irish Breakfast, Chamomile, Earl Grey, Jasmine, Green, Jasmine Green, Darjeeling..."
She's saying words. You're not listening. Listen to HER. She's about to ask you for your decision.
"Uh...just regular old tea?"
You throw out a 'are you having a good day?', but her back is turned. The guy behind you is laughing.
Genius. You dumb bastard. Now, this asshole is laughing. Maybe she didn't hear you. Or she's ignoring you. It doesn't matter. This was a bad idea. Just turn around and walk out. You can't ever come back, but that's cool. There are a lot of cafes in town.
She puts the tea on the counter and smiles.
"On the house, sir."
Fuck...sir? What the hell is that supposed to mean. She's almost as old as you. You catch your reflection in the glass behind the tea jars. You look like an asshole. You look mad. Why can't you just smile like a normal person? Have a normal goddamn conversation. You should have known this would happen. That you would make a fool of yourself. That's what you do.
She's staring at you, and you fumble a dollar out of your pocket for the tip jar. She smiles.
"Is there anything else?"
You want to explain it. Tell her about that night when it was raining and you watched her close up the cafe and why it was important. Or just say it. 'I think you're pretty.' That's it. What? Is she going to be offended? Just fucking do it. You came here to do it, so stop over-thinking it. Yes, I hear you clearing your throat, asshole. Why can't anyone be quiet for a second. She's staring at you. It's now or never, ace.
"Just...well, are you having a nice day?"