Coffee Shop

• 01 •

My mother always told me the city was a scary place, filled with awful people. My father would agree, dotting the i's to every negative that spewed from my mother's mouth. Had I agreed with them? For a long time, I did. All of that changed when I actually walked down city streets.

Were people mean? Well, sure, I bumped into some pretty scary people on day one. My brother couldn't stay with me and without a guardian, I felt open and exposed. But on the second day, I pushed through the crowds attempting to block my "freedom," reminding myself even my small town was filled with vile, evil people, and won.

With just over two thousand dollars in my bank account, I found a nice old man who took pity on me; the girl from little nowhere, with nothing and no one. He gave me an apartment with no questions asked. That debunked my mother's whole "people are awful," because Mr. Paul was great. In just a month, I appreciated his kindness.

His apartment door was next to mine, too, so I always felt safe and secure. Not to mention, at least once a day, he'd drop off a batch of freshly baked cupcakes. And I, a baker to the core, couldn't turn them down. The cupcakes also meant I'd stay fed, too; regardless of the sugar content.

That was something else my mother would complain about. Sugar. My love for cakes and cookies was such a bad thing.

Having a good thing meant I needed to fight for it, right? Which was why I'd spent five minutes of my morning knocking on Mr. Paul's door to give him my next month's rent. I wasn't sure if I'd arrived too early, or maybe too late, but he didn't answer. Knowing I needed to pay, I settled on leaving my rent behind for him to find. On an envelope, I neatly wrote my name—dotting the 'i' in Ruiz with a smiley face—and my number. Took just one quick push to get it under his apartment's front door. As my 'adulting' deed was done, I hurried down the steps and out of the storefront, ready to start my day.

My day was just like all the others.

The past month, I had hunted for jobs. Endlessly. I applied at every store, and every library, and even walked into temp agencies promising employment within twenty-four hours. The "Apply today. Start tomorrow," slogan. Sure. Twenty applications and I got squat. 

The second month's rent had taken the last bit of my savings. All I had left to my name was forty dollars. That wasn't enough to survive another thirty days. I was getting a little desperate and sad.

Yet, I was never to let myself get too down in the dumps; even though I had every right to be. Rather than let it happen, I patted the solid five-dollar bill I'd shoved into my pocket when I'd left my apartment and turned right down the street I'd always gone left on.

I treated it like a dating app. Maybe if I swiped right, I'd like something, hm?

To the left of the storefront building I lived in, past the little convenience store, was the temp agency that never called me back. Next to that was a place that let you rent DVDs; just not regular DVDs. There were too many Xs in one sign and despite what it said on my I.D., I couldn't go in there. 

I might have pressed my face against the glass to peek inside once or twice.

The other way down the street? I'd never gone right. Why? I wasn't sure. I could only sum it up to the fact that down the left side were places I could apply for work. Considering I lived above a little mart and next to another, I could always buy snacks and small meals just steps from my front door.

Now, to the right, was a different story. Brighter colors. While the left was, "Do you need something?" The right was more, "Hi, want to come inside?" I had to pass two office-style buildings, but right after them was a used bookstore. A nice sized one, too. I'd be lying if I said I didn't press my nose against the glass. I'd also be lying if I said the girl at the desk didn't laugh and wave for me to come inside.