A Cold Blooded Boy

As I skidded up to the counter, Slim whirled around to meet me and we leaned conspiratorially on the counter.

“So!” I practically yelped, jerking my thumb towards the peacefully sipping boy.

“I know! It was so painful to make. Look at that thermostat, Callie, what does it say?” Slim subtly shouted in the boy’s direction. I obediently sauntered over to the thermostat, conveniently located right next to the Hot Chocolate Boy’s table, and peered at it closely.

“Well it says right here that the temperature outside is about HELL TEMPERATURE!” I pretty much shouted.

The boy looked up calmly, shook his long brown hair out of his eyes, and said, “I’m cold-blooded.”
I raised an eyebrow.

He raised an eyebrow.

Slim coughed, sighed, and went back to loudly serving and complaining.

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