Tangled

13 Ava: Husky (II)

Carlos‘ words bring me out of my little mini–funk, and I nod. “I need to make as much money as I can before the summer semester. I’m going to need money for tuition, books, miscellaneous fees, and then hopefully a car. Between rent and life necessities, I really need the overtime. I’m lucky Mrs. Elkins is even letting me

work this much.”

He nods, wiping down the counter as I replenish napkins in the dispenser. “She’s got a way about her.

Takes care of us all. Sometimes I wonder if she’s even making money off this place. We sell a lot of coffee, but not so many books.”

He’s not wrong; I’ve thought the same. My shoulders lift in a vague shrug, and I start cleaning off the end tables of newspapers, magazines, and books.

“I have no idea, but I can’t imagine she would run a business just to lose money.” I pause, thinking of the sweet old lady and how she treats every customer who enters her shop like family. “Would she?”

“Wouldn’t put it past her.” Carlos puts together a sinful

14:40 –

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13 Ava: Husky (1)

cup

of caramel–toffee mocha with an obscene amount

like it. Go take a break

ultra sweet beverage and sighing in bliss. “No collar,” I confirm with a shrug. “Huskies are notorious for running away. I’m sure she’ll wander her way back home when all the free scritchy

scratches are gone.”

a slow, meandering sort of way. People ebb and flow in a familiar pattern, and I’m surrounded by the scent of books and

business is slow, Carlos regales me with

news feeds. He’s been begging

find me here, in this last bastion of peace on earth. Which, yes, is a cringe level of melodramatic, but it’s

soul.

250

Ava: Husky

asleep on the sidewalk in front of our door. It takes little time to wipe down the last of the tables, gathering stray cups and napkins and tossing them into the trash. I’m exhausted from the double shift, but it’s the kind of tired that burrows deep into your bones and says you’ve worked hard. Like your body’s proud

of a masochist

me flip the sign on the door to ‘Closed‘ as he counts out the register, his fingers flying faster than I would have ever thought possible when going through

friend is still out there?”

my own, and I feel a bizarre tug in my chest. I want to take her home, but that doesn’t seem intelligent. I live in a tiny apartment above a store. I’m not even sure

14:40 –

3/6

Husky (1)

us, just a tiny square with a well–groomed tree popping out of

I toss the rag into the sink and think of the boxes everywhere in my apartment. I’ve made little headway in trying to clean and organize everything, mainly because I’m taking every shift

he finishes up with the money. “She’s waiting for

roll my eyes. “Why would

all day? She probably thinks you’re going

scarfing down bits of muffin and croissant whenever I had a chance to toss them her way. What can I say? I have