The ring of the doorbell sounded throughout a little coffee shop. Meekly, a young man with tousled hair of a soft chestnut shade stepped in. One hand held the strap of a faded, bulging satchel, and the other was hidden away in a pants pocket.
Outside, small dainty snowflakes drifted, and the sky watched on as people down below burrowed into their furs and coats.
Taking a quick look around the quaint coffee shop, the brunet made his way towards the cashier. Behind it stood a tired looking employee. Gray streaks ran through their hair, despite the fact the rest of their features giving away their young age.
“What can I get for you today, sir?” The employee spoke with the speed of molasses.
“Uh, a tall fresh brewed coffee and a grande caramel frappuccino with extra whipped cream, please?” In contrast, the brunet’s voice was rushed and prominent.
Reaching for a cup, the employee responded, “That’ll be $6.74. Name?”
“Mas- um, Dipper,