You walk into the little spanish restaurant. Its pretty nice inside, cozy and decorated with all the flags of latin america.
"One?" the kid behind the counter asks. You nod, and he shows you to a booth. He's probably not really a kid, you think to yourself. Mid-twenties probably- he's got pretty wide shoulders and a nice little goatee. He had a wicked tan, too. You wish you could tan like that, hit that nice cinnamon color.
"Cafe con leche?" Hes come back, along with a mug and a pitcher of coffee.
"No, no thanks" you say but hes already pouring it. "On the house," he says but you tell him you just dont like coffee. "Maybe this time you will. Trust me, just try it" he says and for the first time you pick up a slight accent. He continues to watch you, so you take small sip to make him happy. He smiles, nods, and returns to the kitchen.
You look around. The place is empty, you notice- maybe thats why hes being extra nice to you. You take another sip of coffee. It does have a nice warming effect, you think to yourself.
He comes back out with a menu and places it in front of you. You ask him his name, and he says Rico. Hes walking away as you check out the menu. Its in spanish, you realize. You dont know spanish, and are about to call Rico back when you realize that suddenly you understand the menu. That's really weird, you think to yourself.