I leaned over and concentrated, careful y examining the label of each one. We had vanil a, sugar-free vanil a, mint, sugar-free mint, caramel, almond, sugar-free almond, hazelnut and cinnamon. No sugar-free caramel.
“One second.” I raised my finger at the man and ducked down to raid the cupboards by the sink. Ash was standing beside me, wiping the excess coffee grinds off the bag.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
“The sugar-free caramel. I was just using it, but now it’s gone,” I said, straining as I reached to the back of the cupboard. I pul ed out a bottle but it was vanil a like al the rest of them were.
I looked up at Ash. “Did we run out?”
He looked over at the syrup dispensers by the machine.
He frowned. “Isn’t that it right there?”
I turned my head. Right beside the machine, in plain view and separate from the others, was a bottle of syrup with a sienna-shaded label.
I walked back to my station and picked it up. It was sugar-free caramel. It would have been in front of me the whole time; how the hel did I not see it?
“Perry,” Mikeala growled softly as she plunked down two more cups. The line in front of her seemed to be growing and growling with impatience. “What is the holdup?”
I couldn’t answer her. I looked up at the hipster businessman who was waiting for his drink while distractedly flipping through a newspaper.
“Excuse me,” I asked him. He looked around and then came forward.
“Yes?”