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 –

176

13 Ava: Husky (1)

cup

of caramel–toffee mocha with an obscene amount

wink. “Here, just how you like it. Go

the 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

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 coffee. I don’t think I’ve ever

business is slow, Carlos

drama he reads on his social media news feeds. He’s been begging me to open up my own profile, but I always

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

soul.

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Husky

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 you for what

maybe I’m a little bit of a

on the door to ‘Closed‘ as he counts out the register, his fingers flying

friend is still out

her pants leaving a foggy haze against it. Once again I’m struck by those eyes so eerily similar to 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 where she’s gone all day to

14:40 –

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Husky

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

everywhere in my apartment. I’ve made little headway in trying to clean and organize everything, mainly because I’m taking every shift

hums a catchy little jingle as he finishes up with

eyes. “Why would

day? She probably thinks you’re going

had a chance to toss them her way. What can I say? I have a soft