9 Ice Cubes

Between having my head fiddled with and fiddling with other people's heads this morning, I stopped in Caribou for a dose of white cocoa (mmm...white cocoa...) and found myself in line behind a woman in her early twenties. She'd held the door open for me, as I was carrying a book in one hand and a computer bag in the other. I noticed then that she was dressed vaguely goth, though I don't want to say it was goth because I've probably gotten it wrong and it's actually some subset or offshoot of goth, and calling it goth would just make me look silly, wouldn't it? Anyway. Sort-of-goth chick was in line ahead of me, smelling vaguely off, so I backed off a bit, (yes, it was a strong enough off unpleasant smell to make me take a step back), but not so far I didn't hear her order: light roast, 9 ice cubes. Huh.