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

just how you like it. Go take a break with that dog out there.

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 felt peace like I do here, working at the Novel Grind.

business is slow, Carlos

his social media news feeds. He’s been begging me

on earth. Which, yes, is a cringe level

soul.

250

Husky

down the last of the tables, gathering stray cups and napkins and tossing them into the trash. I’m exhausted from the

little bit of a masochist

counts out the register, his fingers flying faster than I would have ever thought possible when going through that

your furry friend is still

sure enough, the husky is sitting there, staring at me, with her nose pushed against the glass, 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

14:40 –

3/6

Husky

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

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 Mrs.

little jingle as he finishes up with the

roll my eyes. “Why would she be

sneaking her treats all day? She

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