New York was supposed to jump-start my life. I stalled in Columbus. Yet, somehow, among the millions in New York City, I felt alone; not just alone, lonely.
"Hi," the man at the café counter smiled. "What can I get you?"
Outside, my sunglasses muted the September sun; inside, I used them to hide.
"Medium hot black coffee," I murmured.
"Name?" He asked.
"Bri," I mumbled.
I didn't give him much thought.
The following day, I shuffled, still hiding behind my sunglasses.
"Morning, Bri. Medium hot black coffee?" He smiled at me.
"Ah, yeah... thanks."
Suddenly I felt less alone.
YOU ARE READING
Pebbles: A Collection of Short Stories
Short StoryGot a minute? Want to have your mind flip between genres so fast you are left unsettled and confused? Excellent! Here's a book of shorts in no particular order; sorry, Melvil Dewey. Maturity Level: fade to black violence in The Seven Sisters & Heart...
