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

like 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 notorious for running away. I’m sure

scratches are gone.”

of way. People ebb and flow in a familiar pattern, and I’m surrounded by the scent of books and

Carlos regales me with

social media news feeds. He’s been begging me

of peace on earth. Which, yes, is a cringe level of melodramatic, but it’s

soul.

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Husky (0)

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

little bit of a masochist for thinking

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.

furry friend is still out there?”

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

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Husky (1)

square with a well–groomed tree popping out

of the boxes everywhere in my apartment. I’ve made little headway in trying to clean

he finishes up

roll my eyes. “Why would she be waiting

been sneaking her treats all day? She probably thinks you’re going home

She’s been scarfing down bits of muffin and croissant whenever I had a chance