Maia stood in line at the Bean & Book, mug brought from home in one hand, thumb of the other tucked inside the waistband of her jeans. She tugged on the denim so it wouldn't rub against the rash on her belly. Dairy products gave Maia hives, but milky, sugar-packed and pumpkin-spiced coffee was her ultimate autumn weakness. Fake milk turned the whole experience into a total letdown, so Maia was careful not to drown herself in her seasonal poison of choice. She shuffled forward without thinking until her nose was an inch away from the dark blue suit in front of her. Maia's index finger kept her thumb company inside the waistband. The door opened and leaves rode the chilly gust. Heads swiveled, coughs were muffled, a throat was cleared. Orange and brown leaves floated to the scuffed tile floor.
"Uh, hello. Aren't you Maia Towey?" Maia's back stiffened and she pulled her fingers out of her pants. She looked up at the tanned, stubble-free face that stood in line behind her. Maia considered her options. She wondered how weird it'd be if she didn't answer.
"I haven't been called that in a long time," Maia finally said to the man who blew in with the wind.
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