Ice.

This morning started off as usual. Hopped on the bart; got off an hour later; went to a coffee shop to order a small coffee with double shot espresso.
And usually, there's nothing weird about it.

Except for this morning.
While my order was being rung up, a white-haired man in a leather jacket walks up to the counter.

Him: That bag of ice-- another man will take it.
Barista:  Er........ what?
Him: Over there. *points at 2-lb bag of ice on a table*
Barista: Uh, so did you want me put it behind the counter?
Him: No. He'll come later and get it.

He then turned around slowly, put on his shades with one hand, and walked out into the grey cold of 8am Millbrae, CA. 


No idea what became of that bag.
I'd like to imagine that the guy just really likes his ice and has an underground sting selling frozen water.

If that's the case, I know where I can get my ice when the Zombie apocalypse starts up.