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

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

ultra sweet beverage and sighing 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

scratches are gone.”

I’m surrounded by the scent of books

Carlos regales me

on his social media news feeds. He’s been begging

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

soul.

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Husky

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

little bit of

on the door to ‘Closed‘ as he counts out the register, his fingers flying

is still out

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 even sure where she’s gone all

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Husky (1)

near us, just a tiny square with a well–groomed tree popping out of it in the

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

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

would she be waiting for

because you’ve been sneaking her treats all day? She probably thinks you’re

down bits of muffin and croissant whenever I had a chance to toss them her way. What can I