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

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

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

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

slow, Carlos

feeds. He’s been

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

soul.

250

Ava: Husky (0)

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

bit of a masochist

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

furry friend is still

the window and, 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

14:40 –

3/6

Husky

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

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

little jingle as he finishes up with the money. “She’s waiting for you.”

would she

day? She probably thinks

laugh. 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 for animals.