Rosie finds the girl beautiful.
Because she is. She has dark skin like the coffee Rosie's drinking now, long, purple hair, eyes like lakes and puddles and rain and the earth the way they glitter between brownish-green and greenish-brown.
It's a disgusting cup of coffee, though. Rosie reminds herself to order a mocha or a frappé or something sweet next time.
Her phone chimes while telling her whatever guy she's screwing now is calling. She picks up and mumbles answers to him. He gets pissed, but that's none of Rosie's concern.
She sips at her bitter coffee that the beautiful barista made and basks in the newfound bleakness of an angry guy who's going to be staring at her hungrily when she stumbles through her door.
YOU ARE READING
Deep, Sad, Sorry, Beautiful Blue
RandomIt's a difficult time for Rosie. Coffee is warming her up a bit.
