"Did Gomez say anything to you yesterday about not coming in today?"
Bronson, the surly, little, manager of Longhorns Coffee looked over the counter and awaited my response. He was a prick. I hated his over gelled, wannabe Morrisey hairdo and I also hated the way he jutted out his pointy chin when he was waiting for an answer. He also wore a soul patch too, which I really, really hated.
"No," I replied before pulling myself a double.
He looked annoyed with me but I didn't care. I had to open by myself which was a total pain in the ass. I was due a break an hour before. My head was still foggy. I felt kind of wet and jittery with lack of sleep. In the past year and a half I'd gotten good at waking up a 3:45am but I wouldn't said that I'd gotten used to it.
"Thanks for your concern, Milo," he quipped.
"No problemo, chief."
And with that I took my espresso, a bottle of Pelegrino and walked half way down the block to enjoy my beverages in peace.