Sugar Spell it Out

Two: No Spare EpiPens

I was swamped. Too immersed with my departure, I forgot that the only other person who would understand my predicament was only halfway through her school day. I was fairly sure that Trish's mom wouldn't be happy if I persuaded her daughter to play hookey.

My feet were trusty. I never realized how reliable they were until today. No matter the circumstances, my feet always knew the best places to take me; the safest places to take me.
As of late, the safest place for me has been my best friend and lovely cousin's home.

Trish's mother never stayed put for more than three hours a day so it was just us in the beginning, but Thanksgiving break was over and I couldn't spend my whole life in the shelter of Aunt Stacey and Trish's home.

That day I decided to go for a walk, the first day my parents started their little banters, was the day I hit the jackpot and I found Peter's Coffeehouse. Only a few blocks away from my home at the edge of town, it was a pleasant surpise to see how close it was.
It was an even more pleasant surprise to find that the number of customers weren't very large.

It was quiet.

I needed quiet.

And I was on my way there now.

Peter's was my best getaway, right behind Trish's house. I hadn't been there in over two weeks due to me hanging out with my cousin over her Thanksgiving break.

The owner, Mr. Peter Lambort, was only twenty-five years old, just nine years my senior. He was the closest thing I had to an older brother.
I smiled to myself, pushing the door open. The familiar chime sounded signalining my presence walking through the threshold of the glass door.

The place itself was amazing; three pea green colored walls were adorned with posters of artwork from artists around the area and pictures of the attractions of our little town. The fourth wall to the left was strickly glass windows.
The ceilings held modern chestnut brown fans and built in lights. The chairs and tables were all made of either dark chestnut wood or old wrought iron.

I loved it.

With a small smile playing at my lips, I inhaled the rich scent of freshly ground coffee beans.

"Hey Sienna," Joshua, said as I headed towards the back of the room. I returned his greeting with a half-hearted smile and a nod. Joshua was the only employee at Peter's that I knew of. He worked the cash register like a pro.

"Hi, Josh."

My usual table was near the back left of the room right next to the large glass floor to ceiling windows. It was a modest two-seater table that welcomed me the first time I walked into the shop.

Both the table and chairs were made from old wrought iron with beautiful designs in the framework; The chairs seemed to squeal a little as I sat on the soft cushion which seemed a little annoying, but the view of the park across the street made up for that.

Fritcher Park, small in size, was the only place to keep children entertained, besides the little activities at church, and I always enjoyed watching them play around. It always made me feel better.
Hopefully today wasn't an exception. I was sick and tired of hearing my parents' mouths; here, everything seemed like a dream. Peaceful.

My bag settled itself in my lap. Today there were a group of happy couples sitting on the black iron benches on the outskirts of the playground, watching their kids with small smiles on their faces. My eyes were trained on one particular woman who looked to be in her late twenties, early thirties.

Pale skin and long brown hair, she smiled as she watched a man with blonde hair pushing a little pig-tailed girl on the swing. The expression on the little girl's face was pure elation.