THE NEXT MORNING
ISABELLA
The next morning felt almost suspiciously normal. Sunlight through the cafe windows. The smell of roasted beans. Milk steaming. No floating red timer screaming over my head, which obviously meant something was wrong. I tied my apron tighter and tried to focus on the espresso machine.
"Two caramel lattes." Michael called from the register.
"I heard you." I replied, already reaching for the portafilter.
Michael leaned on the counter, watching me a little too closely.
"You're different." He said.
"Define different."I didn't look up.
"Like glowing but dangerous."Michael sighed.
"I am not dangerous."I nearly dropped the milk pitcher.
"You wore black today."He said.
"It's just a dress."I said.
"It's a statement."He said.
"You have been talking to Wanessa." I shot him a look.
