sold my soul to the barista

there's nothing like the scent of cherry vanilla black tea on a beach-sunny monday morning. I couldnt wait to have a sip of my tea. as nature's laws would have it, i scorched my tongue and scalded my hand. no caution: this cup is extremely hot warning on the coffee mug. not that any perceptive person needed it. but hey, it's a monday morning and mondays are autistic, even if it is my most-awaited rest day for the past delirious weeks.
so there i was, scorched, scalded, bewildered and still wanting to have my tea and sip it too. the intake of whiffs of cherry vanilla aroma but not able to taste it was just too much to bear. i made a proposition to God that if i were destined to be daft at thermal perception, then please, let me have another cup on the house...
i looked around to see if the barista had noticed my whimper-to-a-yeowtch scene considering i was the only one inside the cafe. inertly, she was just at some secluded corner reading Coffeeshop Service for Dummies. ts! talk about equal job opportunities for the dyslexic!
so, i nursed my own burns and found a menthol candy in my bag to allay my singed tongue. then i heard them change their pipe-in music from Michael Buble's That's All to The Corrs' kilted version of Everybody Hurts. I could hear the empty chair across me chuckle pityingly as if to say God has more pressing Monday issues than attend to your whinges... if you cant stand the heat, switch to iced tea -- the bottomless kind to drown your soi-disant incaution.



i smirked at it and decided to wait till they dont hurt as much before i attempt to drink again.
wait...
wait...
wait.
harumphf.
unable to stand thirst, i stood up and let the devil buy me coffee.