Not to be confused with this Queen Elvis
Character Sketch of a Starbucks Regular 3
Her hair was perfect even at 5AM
While the mist of sleep still clung to my limbs
She would burst through the doors
Struting tall
One carefully molded strand of hair hanging
Apart from her tight pompadour
Cigarettes rolled in her sleeve
Large fingers brushing mine
As she grabbed her small coffee
Just black
And until I wore her down
And we became friends
She would look at me with an an upturned lip
And all she would say was
Thank you
Thank you very much
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