Starfuckers in Hell

A young woman stops at the street corner to adjust her black and grey striped stockings. She's dressed from head to toe entirely in black and shades of grey, except for an extra long blue knitted scarf that almost touches the ground, despite being wrapped around her neck twice. She scans the marque scrolling todays headlines across the newspaper agency's stone face while she waits for the light to turn.

Green. She carries herself, hands tucked into armpits to keep warm, across the busy intersection to the Starbucks coffee haus. Inside, she steps past a vagrant asking for the restroom key to make her way to the counter. The slender boy behind the counter, who obviously favors the company of men in his off-time, asks, "What can we get you today?"

"Yes, I'll have a Grande..." she pauses and twirls her finger in the air for a moment, "Gingerbread latte. Make it a triple shot."

"Grande triple shot Gingerbread latte!" shouting toward the barista.
"That'll be $4.52." quietly to the young woman.

She hands him a five dollar bill and he says something like, "Blah, blah, blah, blah, this morning?"

She smiles and nods, playing along.

Once outside, she sets her steaming drink on a white iron patio table that wobbles like a frat boy at last call. A moment of digging into her black hole of a purse yeilds a smoke and a purple lighter. She lights her cigarette, picks up her latte, and heads off across the street again. A teenage boy crossing from the other direction stares at her as if he's never seen a woman before. She dismisses his gaze with a haughty rolling of the eyes.

"Boys are so dumb" she thinks to herself as she climbs the hill toward a tall, marble government building.