“I’m here,” I tell Luna. “Hang on a sec.”
“Okay,” she says. “Good luck.”
I stick my head out the car window, catching a glimpse of myself in the side-view mirror.
I really should invest in a higher quality shampoo.
“Can I help you?” a Dunkin’ Donuts girl asks over the speaker.
“Hi. Can I please have a medium cup of tea, light with cream and four Splenda?”
“A medium coffee? How would you like that?”
Luna chuckles into my ear via my bluetooth.
“No, tea,” I repeat, this time more loudly. “Tea, light with cream and four Splenda.”
“Okay,” the girl answers. “Drive around.”
“Odds she’ll get it right?” Luna asks.
“She has a decent shot. But she’ll fuck up on the receipt. I know it.”
Luna understands that I’m constitutionally incapable of keeping order in my car. I could hide a body in here — and that’s without five thousand spawning slips of paper documenting my daily purchase of a beverage I know I’ll never return.
At the pick-up window, the girl hands me a cup, a teabag dangling over its side.
“Thanks,” I say. “Light with cream and four Splenda?”
“Yay.” Then, handing her two dollars, I ask, “When you give me change, could you hold onto the receipt?”
The girl looks at me funny.
She turns, makes change and hands it to me.
Along with a receipt.
A pity, this is. She’d been so very close.
I let out a sigh.
Luna does the same.