The short encounters

"Are you sure?"

Maxima Statiche, rested her head on her hand, board. The day had been long, and slow at the coffee shop she worked at. She had another hour before she got to close shop. She heard the annoying jingle of the small bells placed above the door. As she looked up, her blue eyes filled with laughter. A short, kid walked in. Or, he looked like a kid. She looked dully down at the fair skinned boy, brushing a tuff of silver hair out of her eyes. She had desperately tried to die it pink, but it had quickly faded.
   "One black coffee." The small white haired male ordered, his voice polite.
   "Yes sir." She nodded, biting her lip as to not laugh. She got him a cup, handed it over, the material clinking against the countertop. The black liquid threatened to spill, climbing up the white sides.
   The white haired boy sat down, opening a book. He took a sip, his face contorting. He set it down, and looked up. Max gave him a humoured look. He glared back, and took another sip. He tried fighting the bitterness, but set the coffee down quickly.
   "Hey kid," max started, but was quickly cut off.
   "I'm not a kid. I am 19 years old." He stated.
   "You are? Well, you're short enough to be twelve." She sniggered.
   "IM NOT SHORT DAMN IT!" He yelled, thankfully they were the only two there. "Oh god. What if mom heard that." His voice became worried, and he looked behind him and around the store. He stopped looking, blushing with embarrassment.
   "Alright kiddo. You're still two years younger than me." She winked at him. Something about him was familiar, made her feel safe.  
   "That'll be five dollars and fifty five cents. And you can have creamer and sugar if you want." She informed, pushing them forwards on the counter. He nodded, payed, and left. "Or not." Max muttered.