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

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13 Ava: Husky (1)

cup

of caramel–toffee mocha with an obscene amount

you like it. Go take a break with that dog

sweet beverage and sighing in bliss. “No collar,” I confirm with a shrug. “Huskies are

scratches are gone.”

passes in 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

slow, Carlos

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

earth. Which, yes, is a cringe level of melodramatic, but it’s how I feel down to my

soul.

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Ava: Husky (0)

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.

bit of a masochist for thinking

flip the 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

is still

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

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Ava Husky

yard near us, just a tiny square with a well–groomed tree popping

apartment. I’ve made little headway in trying to clean and organize everything, mainly because I’m

catchy little jingle as he finishes up with the money.

my eyes. “Why would she be waiting for

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

of muffin and croissant whenever I had a chance to toss them her way. What can I say? I have