Ahh, we’re getting to the end of this!! What is this witch craft, prompts ending? I’ve never heard of such a thing. Anyway, enjoy today’s post because apparently they don’t last for ever. Ridiculous.
9. Cinnamon, a welcome sign, a well-worn leather jacket
I tug my leather jacket on and slam the door of my car. It creaks back open. I let out a groan. I really do not have time for this. I slam it shut again, cussing when it open again. Does the door really need to shut on a car? Not like I own anything important to leave in there. I position the door so it looks kinda closed and call it good. I grab my backpack by the one remaining strap and jog into the coffee shop.
My sister is working on the welcome sign. She always does some crazy intense drawing on it, this time it’s a man climbing a snowy mountain. I don’t know how she puts so much detail in it because it’s pretty small.
“You could be doing a lot more than welcome signs Legend,” I say, walking next to her. She adds another white streak.
“We’re so not doing this again,” She rolls her eyes, picking up the blue piece of chalk. She adds color to the man’s parka. “I’m actually entirely happy right now.”
“C’mon, just one semester,” I say, walking behind the counter. Her wire rimmed glasses catch the light of the Edison bulbs hanging over head. I grab a cup and pour myself coffee. “Think about what you could learn in one semester.”
“I could learn everything that you’ve already taught me,” I cock my head, what does that mean? “I could learn that I would rather be working at a coffee shop, sharing an apartment with my best friend than be drowning in student loans and driving a car whose door that does not close just so I could learn to use a pencil. Which, by the way, is something I already know how to do.”
“Alright, geez,” I sigh, “I’m just confused, what are you going to do with the rest of your life?”
“Don’t know, don’t care,” She shrugs, “I’m fine with this being my whole life honestly.”
She takes the cup from me and frowns at it. She grabs the cinnamon from the counter and the white cream from the fridge. Then she grabs some other flavorings and milk. She mixes everything together and steps back when she’s done. I grab my new and improved drink and take a sip. It’s way better now.
“Thanks,” I nod.
“If I went to college would I be able to that?” She asks, her face too cocky for my taste.
“Probably, you would work part-time here either way,” I murmur. She rolls her eyes.
“I’ll make you pay for that,” She raises a brow.
“Okay fine, I’ll drop it,” I sigh, taking another sip. She’s ridiculous.