Bandaged Hearts

Chapter 24

"Yes, Grandma Jeena."

She walks off to get prepared for the chilly November outdoors.

I take my station behind the counter. Things are a bit messy and out of place, so I organize anything that needs to be sorted before heading off to clean tables.

The golden lighting of the bakery caresses my (s/c) skin, turning it into the warm color you only get in wheat fields when the sun sets. Along with the calming light is the atmosphere. It's so rich and smooth, the hum of people sounding like music to my ears. It's a feeling I almost never get, being used to hearing the sound of boring or nagging people talk. The windows in the bakery are as clear as ice freezing on a lake, minus the golden lettering that sticks to the polished surface. People walk by the cozy store, a few peering in in interest while others keep walking on like the plain old ants you find in every new town.

People continue to pop in every now and then to grab something warm for breakfast or something hot to drink. I serve them with ease.

"Is everything tasting okay?" I ask a group of college students.

They all nod and say yes. I walk away to go check on some other people.

Time passes by, and I check the fancy Eiffel Tower clock that rests on the wall behind the cash register. Almost two hours have passed. I glance out of the bakery's windows and to the little old lady out front. Her lips are curled into a flawless smile, wrinkles displaying the joy in her heart. She holds onto a tray with small cups and a thermo. People stop by for a quick drink, and she pours them a small cup of steaming hot, brown liquid. A warmth surges up to my chest, a light smile dancing on my lips. Grandma Jeena waves at the people, blowing on her hands every now and then.

That old lady has been nothing but good to me. All she has done has been out of her golden heart. Not out of pity. It's nice that she treats me like a young adult and not a child. To be quite honest, she feels more like a mother to me than my own mother. That wretched drunkard makes my blood boil just thinking about her.

I hustle over to grab my winter jacket from the coat rack that stands behind the counter. My fingers slip it over my upper body, zipping it up quickly with that gratifying zipping noise. Grandma Jeena is still outside serving people. I can tell she's cold. With haste, I head over to the front of the bakery. My bare hands push open the right side door, grabbing Grandma Jeena's attention. She looks back at me and smiles.

"Did you need help, ma cherie?" she inquires.

I shake my head.

"No. I just came out here to take my shift. You're shaking," I reply.

"I can go for a bit longer."

"Grandma Jeena," I softly murmur. "It's almost been two hours and you're cold. Let me take over so you don't get sick."

She chuckles lightly, putting down the tray on a low, snow covered table that's next to a bench on the sidewalk right out front of the bakery. Her old wrinkly hand reaches up to my head, patting the (h/c) locks on my head. I keep quiet. Her hand is cold against my warm scalp. Grandma Jeena takes her hand away from my head, that same, warm smile still printed on her face.

"You'll freeze without any snow gear, (y/n). Give me a few minutes," she says, heading inside her bakery.

I nod in response, waiting patiently and serving to anyone who wants hot chocolate. Many worker ants pass by, a few people taking their time and giving their thanks while others not so much. It bugs me how insignificant people, who think they're the kings of Earth, will mistreat others. Kind of reminds me of my toxic mother. Their hearts are twisted black and downright cold to everyone around them.
I click my tongue in disapproval.