Stella

1

I'm nothing like them.

Why are they staring?

Stop.

My chest tightens and tears prick my eyes as I weave my way through the small town to the only place I feel safe.

I finally let out the breath I was holding when I push open the door and hear the familiar sound of the bell ringing and the smell of coffee fills my nose.

"Stella! How are you bambina?" Mr. Lorenzo's voice immediately calms me down like it always does.

I've been working at Mr. Lorenzo's cafe ever since they left me behind. At 20 years old, this was the best I could for myself in a place where I'm highly disliked for actions I didn't do.

I was the makeshift punching bag as the real offenders fled like absolute pussballs.

His cute shop was the only place that felt somewhat like home, and that was a hard feeling for me to get.

"I-I'm okay!" I reply cheerfully and walk behind the counter.

"Anyone give you a hard time on the way here?" Concern laces his voice even though it's the same question he asks everyday. He eyes me in attempt to read my face.

I tie my apron around my waist in an attempt to make my SpongeBob shaped body look somewhat curvy.

"Same old, same old. People just can't take their eyes off me ya know?" I joke while trying to get my hair into a claw clip. I never wanted him to worry about me as he already had enough on his plate.

His wife's health was slowly deteriorating as she was getting older. He often leaves work for emergencies regarding her. Ms. Laura used to fill this cafe with so much warmth and happiness when she was hip to hip with her husband. Now that she is no longer able to work, Mr. Lorenzo carries the load of work that comes with owning a business, and I can see that it's taking a toll on him.

"Ready to head to the back? We open in 5 minutes." I eagerly nod as I push the swinging door open to reveal the cute little kitchen.

I was a nervous wreck waiting to burst into tears if I worked the register, so Mr. Lorenzo thought it would be best if I took on baking the pastries for the cafe.

I had already made the dough for croissants yesterday so all I had to do was wait for them to bake then I would fill them with Ms. Laura's famous pistachio cream.

She taught me everything she knew. She had taken some recipes she learned as a child in Italy, and even the new ones she spent hours back here trying to perfect.

I miss her.

As the croissants rose in the oven, I got to work on the other sweet treats the cafe had to offer.

Time flew by as I was piecing together everything. Usually Mr. Lorenzo would come back here to collect the baked goods, but he never did. I had everything ready, and he knows that I work fairly fast.

I walked toward the doors and pushed it open slightly to take a peak.

The cafe was busy and my hands started to get clammy.

I yelped as the door suddenly swung open, making me stumble a bit. I stare wide eyed at my coworker Jason. He was a high school pothead that never gave me too much trouble.

Until he tried making edibles in my kitchen.

He ran his hand through his shaggy brown hair and he clearly looked stressed.

"Look, Mr. Lorenzo had to leave for an emergency and I don't know when he'll be back. So can you please just work the register while I make drinks?" My heart sunk at his words.