What even is this song that’s stuck in my head?

…

God, it’s dull as ditch water here.

…

Can’t wait to hear about the new guys. The banker yesterday, hilarious!

…

That fucking lights been flickering for a week now, when’s that going to get fixed?

…

Might as well do another sudoku, I think, as I open the app. It’s 3:25. Oh, 8 minutes, yeah, easy.

...

And there’s the last 7, which makes that the last 2. Nice. Oh, sweet, only 5 minutes. Suppose I might as well get the machines running.

3:31.

3:32.

Crack. There he is.

“Hey, Mike!” I say, my voice dry for disuse.

“Hey, man. How’s things?”

“Boy, am I glad to see you. Not a single sod’s been in here all night, I’ve been bored stiff. I mean how many sudokus can you do in one night? Anyway, how you doing?”

“Oh, not too bad, can’t complain,” he growls, then shivers. “Christ, it’s always so cold up here.”

“Well, I suppose it would seem that way. So, what does he want tonight?”

“Here, get this," he says, leaning in and whispering. "An iced latte.”

“A fucking iced latte?!”

“I know,” the little fella laughs, “doesn’t seem the type, does he? He's pushing the boat out a bit.”

“Ah, fair enough, I suppose. So, how’s things down there?” I ask, keenly. “Any new faces?” God, I love this bit.

“Yeah, actually, a few,” he chuckles, as I begin brewing the espresso. A fucking iced latte? “There’s this politician, so, you know; liar, gambler, corrupt up to his eyeballs,’ he itches his ear with a gnarly red finger, ‘had several competitors killed and threatened, willing to destroy the planet for political gain... Nothing unusual for his kind, obviously. He cried like a baby when he saw the big man, it was hilarious.”

“Speaking of which, how is the big man?”

“Oh, same old,” he says, with a disinterested wave of the hand. “Although, I think he’s a bit bored with the whole... shtick. Hence the iced latte, I guess. How’s Alex, any news?”

“Oh yeah - she’s pregnant!”

He beamed, revealing several yellow and pointed teeth. “No way! That’s wonderful! Congratulations!”

“Thank you! I can’t believe it,’ I say, giddy, ‘I’ve been praying for this day to come!”

“Oh, I’m so happy for you both. Ah, well done, man! The boss’ll be just thrilled for you.”

Finally, I pour the cold milk in. “There we go, Mike,’ I say, sliding the cup along the counter. “One... Iced latte.” We both laugh at the absurdity of it. Satan. A fucking iced latte.

“Thanks a million, mate. How much do I owe you?”

“5 dollars.”

“Hey?! 5 dollars?!”

“I know, inflation’s a bitch right now.”

He pulls his wallet from his pocket, and reluctantly hands me a crisp, and incredibly warm, $5 bill.

“Right. Better be off. Don’t wanna keep him waiting," he chuckles. "See you tomorrow, mate.”

“See ya, Mike. Have a good one.”

And with another crack, he was gone.

What a nice guy...

…

Suppose I could actually do something useful. Cleaning or something. Nah...

…

God, that fucking light...

…

And that’s a 3, which makes that a 9...

…

Satan. An iced latte. Ha!

…

Crack.

I just about jump out of my skin. “Mike? What do -”

That’s… That’s not Mike. Mike’s not tall. Mike’s not handsome. And he certainly doesn’t have a…

“Halo,” I say, somewhat pathetically, as my mouth falls open.

“Hi there!" the angel says, in a gorgeous, deep, ethereal voice. "Could I get a pumpkin spiced latte to go, please?”