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Free scones? Free latte? A chauffeur? Okay, so it had been a cop and she had sat in the front seat, but it was still a free ride. Regardless, pretending to be rich was already paying off; Nisha could kick herself for not thinking of such a brilliant idea sooner. Instead, she just kicked her feet up on the table, sipped her latte, and nibbled on her scone as she amused herself by scoffing at the line of plebs who actually had to pay for their drinks. It only took a third of a scone before her interest faded, turning towards the bundled up shoppers outside. Allegedly, the Vanburen mark would send someone to come fetch her in a pumpkin carriage and Cinderella her away to her new, naive family.

The familiar sensation of falling hit her before the chair completely dipped back. As if on instinct, or perhaps thanks to Nel’s ever vigilant eye, the Long Arms burst out of Nisha and caught against the floor to rebalance the chair. The spike of adrenaline faded as Nisha looked around the room. The people seemed unfazed enough that her spooky arms either were invisible to them or a totally normal sight, although she doubted it was the latter. Nisha didn’t learn her lesson; seconds later her feet were kicked back up on the table as she resumed her waiting. 

Five minutes passed. People watching grew tired, so she pulled out her phone, realized she had no service, and went back to people watching. Now that she was pretend rich she’d have to see if her new “family” could buy her a phone that worked in America. Ten minutes passed. She had jumped in line now to get one of those big blueberry muffins and another latte. Even now that she was a pretend rich person she wouldn’t let that allow her to disrespect the queue. Fifteen minutes passed. Cherry, the plump and pleasant blonde woman who had comped her first treat did so for the second. Nisha thanked her because she wasn’t going to be one of those pretend rich who lacked manners.

Twenty minutes passed and Nisha was about to burn the motherfucker down to get back at the rich douchebag who was obviously standing her up. It wouldn’t be the first time she was disappointed by an older man from a wealthy family and she doubted it would be the last. Nisha chewed on her fingernail as the clock’s second hand rolled all the way around again. They were wasting her whole life now and what did she get out of it besides a shitty free cup of coffee and a mislabeled biscuit? This was unexceptable, just unexceptable. Nisha wouldn’t stand for it, so she stood up, her chair clattering to the ground. Just because she was poor the rich thought they could shit all over her. Well she had news for them: this bum had enough shit! Nisha stormed the front counter like her landing craft had just hit sand on Omaha. No queue was respected when it came to getting the goddamn respect she deserved as a fake rich person. Nisha got up in front of Cherry, lifted herself up against the counter to appear taller, and snapped her fingers for the woman’s attention. 

[color=lightgreen]“Hey! What’s taking Ezra so long!?”[/color] barked Nisha.