Other night, dashed up to Monomoy Coffee for a late night cup of the necessary. In the door ten minutes before closing. No one in the place but the girl behind the counter and a teenage boy sitting on a stool by the front window. The girl is tall, almost six feet, and has long black hair that reaches to her waist. The boy is deeply tanned, has curly blond hair, and wears a khaki baseball cap pushed back far on his head. He works here too, but not tonight. He's stopped in to chat.
Boy: You work with that girl Rachel?
Girl: Sometimes. (She seems to know what's coming.)
Boy: She's driving me nuts!
Girl: I know what you mean.
Boy: I can't stand it!
Girl: You can handle her. Do what I do. I just give her orders. I say, Rache, time to fill the creamers. Rache, can you grind some more of the house blend? Rache, mix up a new batch of this or we're out of that or could you run out back and bring in some more fliters. Rache, you have to take in the sign now, we're closing.
Boy: That's how I deal with her, but I feel weird. I mean, I've worked here what? Like five days longer than she has?
Girl: You're better than she is in the mornings. You have to take charge. Some people need a lot of direction.