Water In My Lungs

Tinneas

Rory wiped her hands on the kitchen towel that she had been using to sterilize the insides of the coffee mugs. She nodded, fingertips tapping against the wooden counter top, seemingly lost in thought.

“Are you still going to bring breakfast to the guests of those in the hospital?” Estelle asked, more curious than anything. “I can help you with whatever you need.”

“Well, I've already baked everything,” Rory hummed, “I just need to bag it up.” The red-head dangled an insulated tote from her index finger, grinning. Estelle smiled, pulling herself up from her chair. She made her way across the tiled floor, leaning over the bar on her elbows.

“Do you need me to do anything while we're in this lull?” Estelle eyed the empty booths and chairs, surprised with the lack of hustle and bustle that normally plagued the shop's early mornings. “It looks like you've already cleaned.”

Rory chuckled, “Yeah, I do that when I'm stressed. The only thing I haven't really gotten around to is counting the till, trust me when I say it has been more than packed the past few days so expect a rush. There's not any fast food joints here in Shannon, so the quickest meal anyone is going to grab is from a cafe. We're closest to the hospital.”

“I can count the till. Do you think I'll do okay? I mean, do you trust me here alone?” The thought of being alone anywhere unnerved the girl. She couldn't even tell herself that her paranoia was unjustified anymore.

“You might not be the best barista-- yet, but you'll do just fine.” Rory offered her a warm smile, hand coming down on her shoulder with a small squeeze. “I trust ya'.” She said through a grunt, fighting with the seran wrap in her hands.

“Let me help you with that.” Estelle took a sheetpan of baked goods, wrapping them in the plastic before ripping it off with the metal edge. Rory bagged them quickly, their assembly line fashion making for a quick packing. “Do you have a lot of dishes or anything...? I'd like to help as much as I can while I'm here.” The blonde looked up at her with a desire to coddle, the bags beneath the older girl's eyes bothering her more than they should. She felt guilty for everything that had happened to the townsfolk.

Rory slung her tote over her shoulder. “You're a saint, Estelle, but no.” She ruffled her hair, kicking off her work shoes to slide into high-heeled boots. “Just count the till, it'll probably get busier the closer to late afternoon it becomes.” Estelle pulled the cash from the register as Rory fixed her makeup in her pocket mirror. “Will you unlock the door and turn the welcome sign over?” she asked the blonde.

“Yeah of course.” Estelle made her way between the counter's doors gracelessly, pulling the keys from her pocket. She inspected the frays in the denim for a moment, the haze of much needed sleep fogging her eyes. 

Through the wide window that sat on the face of the shop, Estelle's attention was nabbed by a darting set of shoulders and swinging arms. She looked up from the keys in her hand to greet the customer, anxiety clinging to the concept of human interaction.

Through the wide window that sat on the face of the shop, Estelle's attention was nabbed by a darting set of shoulders and swinging arms. She looked up from the keys in her hand to greet the customer, anxiety clinging to the concept of human interaction.

The door opened and in he walked, the same standoffish behavior she was used to seeming to have left with the moon as day broke.

His eyes were fixated on her, hands clenched and back straight with confidence. Her breath shallowed to an almost stop, her hands shaking. The keys jingled suddenly with the movement and she almost dropped them with a shriek. The weight of her body felt like a skyscraper during an earthquake, swaying as its foundation did. Her knees begged to give out.