Just say "grapefruit" if you feel unsafe...
The Wednesday morning before the opening, Ren ducked into The Perks while seeking refuge from the downpour outside. Water dripped off of her raincoat next to the wet floor sign by the door. Remnants of customers leaving behind messy tables and a trail of soggy footprints leading to the counter. Paisley looked haggard as she poured another cup of coffee without even looking up to greet anyone.
As she stepped behind the young man, who looked like it had been days since she slept, Ren cast a glance at the cafe area, almost automatically. Not having heard from Avery that morning, she half-expected to find her with her nose in a book again. Her beautiful face wasn’t amongst the crowd.
“Terry!” Paisley called out over the hissing of the milk steamer. “Your order is ready.”
The tired man sloshed up to the counter, soaked and seeming homeless. Ren stepped aside, not wanting his stench to sully her clean clothes.
At the counter, she directed her attention toward Paisley and leaned in. Not wanting to seem shallow, but also not able to ignore the assault on her senses. “I don’t think I’ve seen him before.”
As if understanding Ren’s unspoken words. “He’s one of our regulars. Comes in every morning, dressed to the nines. About a week ago, he came in looking like shit. Smells like it too. I don’t want to sound judgmental; I’m just saying something changed, and he doesn’t seem to be doing so well.”
“Interesting,” Ren said, then changed the subject. “Have you heard from our little artist this morning?”
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