a midshift reprieve

Dark, steaming liquid dripped over the ice, melting through and down the sides, making a path to the bottom where it pooled and grew still.  

A pause.

Milk that had been recently shaken so the top frothed lightly, lazily cascaded  through the glass, and unlike it’s predecessor, enveloped the ice gently, swirling at the bottom into its dark companion, creating a cheerfully toasted color. 

In a daze, she pushed the ice that now bobbed to the top of the glass, down forcefully with a cocktail straw.  It bobbed back up. Down, and back up. Down, and back up. Condensation began to trickle slowly towards the counter top. The quick sound of paper tearing.  Sugar began to dissolve as it reluctantly kissed the top layer of froth and slippery, softening from stark white to match the toasted nectar, and then disappearing.  

Down, and back up, with the cocktail straw.  Down, and back up. Tiny bubbles formed around the inside of the now dewy glass.

“Nina! Table 42 needs dessert menus and Chef needs to see you about table 37’s recook! Wake up!”

Sigh.  Nina closed her eyes and sipped the cool liquid.  Table 42 could wait.