3 Mulligans

At the drive-through window I asked for a double espresso. “Would you like a medium or large?” She was holding up a 16 oz. cup and a 20 oz. cup. Since she seemed to prefer visuals I shook my head and made a one-inch gap with my thumb and forefinger and squinted at her through its little space. “Ah, yes,” she replied, and turned to get started. Then I heard that sound. The one that meant no one had emptied the group head until another order came in. BANG-BANG-BANG. I wondered how long the grounds sat jammed into the filter screen before I came along. After far too much time, I looked through the window to see my espresso sitting there on the counter. Just sitting, getting cooler by the second, like it was saying, “Sorry, I’m not gonna be what you ordered by the time I get in your mouth.”