chocolate milk, please

Louise was quickly becoming irritated. It was the usual mid-day rush in the deli, and here stood a man of indecision, holding up a line of impatient customers.

"Sir," she inquired, "what can I get for you?"

"Uh . . . ," he replied.

Charles was a stocky man in his late thirties, though his features would fool anyone to believe him a man amidst a mid-life crisis.

"I will have . . . um . . . a chocolate milk?" His inflection was of doubt.

"A chocolate milk?"

"Uh, yeah . . . just a chocolate milk." Charles become more confident of his decision the more he said it. "Chocolate milk would be lovely."

With no attempt to hide the look of confusion on her face, Louise turned from the counter to grab a pint of browned milk from the mini-fridge behind her. With unspoken frustration, she placed the milk on the counter, looking past Charles at the aggitated customer next in line.

Charles quickly whisked the milk from the counter and scurried to a small table in the corner, head hung in shame. This wasn't the first moment of indecision in his life, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.