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

it. Go take a break with that dog out there. Have you

taking a sip of the ultra sweet beverage and sighing in bliss. “No collar,” I confirm with a shrug. “Huskies are

scratches are gone.”

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

Carlos regales me

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

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

soul.

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Husky (0)

sun set, it’s finally time to close, and the husky is still there, 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 you for what you’ve done.

I’m a little bit of a masochist for thinking

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 that much cash.

is still out

those eyes so eerily similar to my own, and I feel a

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Husky (1)

just a tiny square with a well–groomed tree popping out of it in the middle of the sidewalk.

of the boxes everywhere in my apartment. I’ve made little headway in trying to clean and organize everything, mainly

jingle as he finishes

eyes. “Why would she be waiting for

her treats all day?

It’s true, She’s been scarfing down bits of muffin and croissant whenever I had a chance to toss them her way. What can I say? I have a soft spot