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

and slides it toward me with a wink. “Here, just how you like it. Go take a break with that dog out there. Have you checked her for a

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

scratches are gone.”

the scent of books

Carlos regales me with

He’s been begging me to open up

find me here, in this last bastion of peace on earth. Which, yes, is a cringe

soul.

250

Husky

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

I’m a little bit of

‘Closed‘ as he counts out the register, his fingers flying faster than I would have ever

friend is

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

square with a

made little headway in trying to clean and organize

jingle as he finishes

“Why would she be

treats all day? She probably thinks

She’s been scarfing down bits of muffin and croissant whenever I had a chance to toss them her way. What can