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*CHAPTER 2*

Cafe Limone was in the sprawling center of the city. It was small, but it was somehow always packed with customers. Today, it was even more crowded than usual, the lot overflowing. I circled the building in my rickety car, looking for somewhere to park, my stress doubling by the second.

I was going to be so so late. The last thing I needed right now was to give my manager, Janice, any more reason to hate me. I was drenched in sweat by the time I made it through the door. Everything from this morning slowly catching up to me. From the moment I'd woken up this morning, I'd felt like I'd been living in a strange nightmare that I couldn't wake up from. Now, though, the initial shock was wearing off, leaving a pain in my stomach sharp enough to knock the breath out of me.

Mr. Morenci was dead. Not only that, he'd been murdered.

Stop thinking about it. I shoved it as far out of my mind as I could, down, down, down, even still, my skin felt clammy in the blast of A.C. as I stepped into the employee break room, my hands shaky as I clocked in. The room was tiny, tucked away at the back of the cafe with two plastic utility tables and folding chairs, an ancient fridge in the corner, a sink, a microwave, and wooden cubbies for storing bags.

I went as far as to splash some cold water over my face at the sink with shaking hands. The water didn't do much for my nerves, but at least it washed away some of the sweat.

I was drying off the droplets of water from my skin with a cheap scratchy paper towel when Janice, my manager, came barreling around the corner. Her dyed red hair was in a high ponytail, hair slicked back so not a piece was out of place.

She glared at me, gaze sliding critically over my clothes. The ones I'd pulled off my floor this morning in a panic, covered in wrinkles and stains from yesterday. Oops.

I opened my mouth, ready to explain, but she held up a sharp manicured hand cutting me off, "You're late," her voice was hard and accusing, "Just get out there already."

I barely kept the grimace off my face as I moved past her to the cafe.

The familiarity of getting myself into the swing of the breakfast shift made thinking about other things a little easier. My heart rate slowed with the normal sounds of chatter and clinking glasses mixed with the smell of coffee grounds and sweet bread. Somewhere between helping customers and clearing tables and making coffee, I was able to feel normal for the first time all morning.

About an hour into my shift, I was making tea behind the counter when I felt a pair of arms wrap around me from behind. They constricted around me so hard that I spilled half of the tea I was making all over the counter, some splashing onto my already stained and wrinkled shirt.

"I thought you were dead." Lauren's voice came from behind me, muffled from where she must have had her face shoved into my hair.

"What?"

She released her death grip on me to spin me around to face her. She was so much taller than me that she had to look down to get her glare across. Her black hair was up in two buns this morning, little pieces flying around her face as she glared her accusation at me, "You didn't answer my fifty phone calls."

I blinked at her, confusion making my thoughts churn slowly, "You called me fifty times?"

Her glare intensified, "Alright, it wasn't fifty," she amended, "but like five. I called you five times. And I never call anyone. I only text. But that's not the point. The point is, is that you didn't answer any of them, and do you know what I thought? I thought you were dead." Her voice slowly rose while she spoke, her voice so loud at the end that customers' heads turned in our direction.

I gave her a confused frown, pulling my phone where I kept it in my apron pocket. Ten missed calls, and five unread texts, some from her some from Matt, "I didn't even see you'd called me—"

"I had to hear from Matt of all people that a fucking body was found in your neighborhood!"

"Wait, what?"

She continued on babbling as if she hadn't heard me, "From Matt of all people. When I should have heard it from you. A fucking dead body. He called me when he couldn't get ahold of you, asking if you'd made it to work this morning. When you were late, I called you as soon as I heard. Then, when you didn't answer, do you know what I thought? I thought the dead body in your neighborhood was you, Kassie." More people continued to turn in our direction from her rapidly growing voice and I turned her away from the seating area of the cafe and pushed at her back until we were around the corner hidden away near the kitchens.

The steam from the ovens made pieces of my usually straight hair frizz.

"How did Matt even hear about it?" I asked her when we were away from the prying curious eyes of the customers.

She waved a dismissive hand, "He has some kind of news app or something? I don't know. That's not the point though. The point is that you should have told me...or at least answered your phone."

I blinked up at her because she was a solid foot taller than me, "I'm sorry, I should have called. There was just a lot going on and everything was happening so fast—"

"I know," She sighed, looking suddenly exhausted. She scrubbed a hand over her forehead, "I'm sorry too, I shouldn't be freaking out this much, but I was just worried about you. Living by yourself and everything."

Lauren was one of the only people who knew about my situation at home. About my Uncle David being gone most of the time. She must've seen something in my face because her eyes softened and she reached out to pat my shoulder, "Did you see it? The body?"

I nodded, the knot in my stomach and the lump in my throat making a reappearance, "It was my neighbor. It was...bad." I finished lamely. I couldn't think of a word to describe it to her. Wasn't sure I even wanted to.

"Did they say if they knew what happened to him? Who did it?"

"The police weren't saying anything, just asking a bunch of questions."

She pulled me into another hug, her eyes shining with what looked like tears, "You must have been so scared. I know you can do things on your own, but I wish you'd let someone help you. Let me help you. You don't have to handle everything by yourself. You should have someone with you when stuff like this happens."

I didn't get the chance to tell her that I was okay, really, because Janice came around the corner and she looked like she was out for blood. Thankfully, she didn't spot where we stood back around the corner.

Lauren sighed, seeing her at the same time I did, "We'll talk later." She reached out to pat my shoulder but stopped as if suddenly remembering my aversion to being touched. "I'm glad you're okay." Her face pulled into a sad smile.

I followed her woodenly back to the barista area, restarting the tea I'd been making, my mind not in it anymore. A numb hollow feeling took root in my stomach. A feeling that didn't quite go away no matter how many drink orders I filled or how much I threw myself into the slew of customers.

What I'd told Lauren was true, I was okay. I'd be fine. Three more weeks and I would be, anyway. I'd be out of my uncle's house and starting college. I'd be away from the chaos and stress that had been the last few years of my life since my mom died. Just three more weeks and I'd be able to move somewhere where I wasn't constantly stressed about how I was going to pay all the expensive bills. Everything was going to be fine.

Just three more weeks.

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