Zach stood in line, waiting for his morning coffee.
The person ahead of him was taking a little longer than normal, and he couldn’t figure out why. She seemed to be chatting with the damn coffee jockey, or barista as she probably thought of them, and just getting on like a house on fire. Good for you, do your flirting elsewhere lady, he thought.
Finally she stepped to the side, and the coffee jockey said, “Next please!”
Zach stepped forward, and said, “Medium roast to go, please. Here’s my mug,” he handed the steel drink container across the counter, then reached for his wallet.
“Great,” the jockey said, filling the mug. He handed it back and said, “And the patron in front of you has paid for your drink.”
Zach raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Cool,” he said.
She was still standing there, smiling. As Zach turned, she said, “Just pay the kindness forward, help someone else.”
Zach frowned. “Don’t tell me what to do, fuck you.” He left, annoyed as this stranger’s presumptions.