The afternoon sun filtered softly through the large, spotless windows of the bookstore café, casting a warm, golden glow over the polished wooden tables. Aria wiped down the counter with a clean rag, her movements steady and practiced. The air smelled of freshly ground espresso beans, old paper, and cinnamon pastries. It was quiet, peaceful, and worlds away from the greasy, chaotic diner in the slums. She had been incredibly lucky. Three weeks ago, she had noticed a small "Help Wanted" sign taped to the window of this independent bookstore located in a much nicer, safer neighborhood across the city. The pay was only slightly better than the diner, but it offered her the afternoon shift, allowing her to work two jobs. She worked at the bookstore from one to six, then immediately took the bus to the diner to work from seven until midnight. She was exhausted, but she was finally eating three solid meals a day. The dark, hollow shadows under her eyes had slightly faded, replaced by a so
Read more