Amber's feet hurt. Hurt so badly that she couldn't even think of it as pain anymore. It had transcended into something new altogether. She wanted to go home to be with her mother and her guitar and her lyric book, but she still had four hours left on her shift. She hoped, no, she prayed that the shop would remain empty until her shift ended. 

Giggles. Loud talking. Gossip. 

Amber groaned, pressing a hand to her aching back. She was only twenty-two. Her back shouldn't be aching yet, but it did. 

The bell over the door opened and a crowd of girls with brightly colored shopping bags walked in, filling the shop. Eight sat down while a slim, elegant-looking one broke off from the pack and headed to the counter. 

Amber wanted to shoo her away, but this was her job, and even if it killed her at times, she still had to do it. And do it with a pleasant grin on her face, faux or not. 

"Hi," the girl said in a soft, yet sharp voice. "I would like to place an order." 

Amber looked from the girl in front of her to the group of girls who would obviously be waiting for coffees and teas and pasted on a grin. 

"Go ahead with your order, M'am."