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 –

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13 Ava: Husky (1)

cup

of caramel–toffee mocha with an obscene amount

it toward me with a wink. “Here, just how you like it. Go take a

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.”

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

is slow, Carlos regales

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

this last bastion of peace on earth. Which, yes, is a cringe level

soul.

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Husky (0)

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

a little bit of a masochist for

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

furry friend is still out there?”

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

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

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

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

“Why would she be waiting

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

I had a chance to toss them her