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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cup

of caramel–toffee mocha with an obscene amount

just how you like it. Go take a break with that dog out there. Have you checked her for

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

scratches are gone.”

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

business is slow, Carlos regales me with

reads on his social media news feeds. He’s been begging me to open up my own profile, but I always decline.

in this last bastion of peace on 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

of the tables, gathering stray cups and napkins and tossing them into the trash. I’m exhausted from

little bit of a masochist for thinking

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

is

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

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Ava Husky

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

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

catchy little jingle as he finishes up with

eyes. “Why would she be waiting

treats all day?

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