Celine smooths her long white hair over her shoulders.It gleams in the early morning light.Silky and smooth, a point of pride for her.“You want me to put in a good word for you now that the bobblehead of a boyfriend left you high and dry?”
The wind picks up as it curls around the street corner.I wiggle my knees to shake off the chill seeping under my coat.
She’s not wrong.Huey left me—went and fell in love with someone who wasn’t me, which was pretty rude after ten years together—but I’m still swimming.
After months of putting it off, I finally packed up his shit.My best friend, Alice, offered to come all the way from Ferntree to help, but she’s got her hands full with her bakery, and I couldn’t ask her to up and leave like that.Instead, she kept me company over the phone, all while detailing the ways she’d remove his junk if he even thought about walking into her store.
“Hold that thought,” I say.“I have until Saturday to be out of my place, but that’s plenty of time to collect the keys for my new apartment.”
There’s also the small issue of signing the paperwork to ensure it’s official, but I’m sure the realtor is busy.I’ll hear from him soon.
Hopefully.
“Plenty of time for something to go wrong too.”
I shake my head.This city really needs an infusion of optimism.
The lime-green door of the coffee shop opens and closes once more.A woman, wrapped up in more fleece than a sheep show, pushes her way out of the crowd and into the cold.Inside is busy for a Tuesday.Not a good sign.
Faintly, I feel a clock ticking, each second of indecision pressing down on me.Monica’s always looking for mistakes, but I’ve never once been late to work.Not in two years.
“Have you made your decision yet?”Celine asks.
It’s now or never.
* * *
Make Your Choice:
stop for coffee(go to 2)
go to work(go to 3)
I have to stop for coffee.I can’t survive without it.
“Your usual?”I ask Celine.
She nods.“Bacon, cheese, un?—”
“Untoasted—I remember.Anything else?”
“I have no need for your liquid addiction.”
I tuck my smile into my collar as I walk to the door.
Heat blasts me as soon as I enter, a clammy perspiration already clinging to my skin before I get in line.Ma’s old wool coat is perfect when the wind picks up, but right now, it’s stifling.
The coffeehouse is packed.A line of people blocks the register, with more at my back.The armchair I usually claim on weekends is currently filled by a small child.Dwarfed in the worn paisley seat, he swings his feet back and forth happily while his mother types on her phone one-handed, brow creased with stress.
I know if she looked over, she’d see the same expression on me, except my stress takes the form of my hard-as-nails boss.
I really hope the barista works quickly this morning.
The new year is meant to be the dawning of a fresh start.Clean slates, all problems left behind.Even the song playing overhead says so.
Performed by the latest top 40 teen star I’ve never heard of, it’s a surprisingly haunting tune about loneliness and love lost.It’s been following me for days.Fate sure has a funny sense of humor.
Eventually, there’s only one customer left in front of me—a tall guy with a man bun and a thick black sweater over expensive distressed jeans.
