The bell above the door chimed, a soft, familiar sound that usually felt like a welcome. Today, it was just noise. I kept my head down, focusing on wiping down the same spot on the gleaming glass display case. The sweet, rich scent of coffee and sugar that usually comforted me now felt cloying, sticking in the back of my throat.“Elliot, honey, if you polish that any harder, you’re going to wear a hole right through it.”I jumped, nearly dropping the cloth. Mrs. Henderson stood there, her kind eyes crinkled with concern. She was a warm, round woman in her sixties, with flour often dusted on her apron and a perpetual smile for her customers and her “kids,” as she called her part-time staff.“Sorry, Mrs. H,” I mumbled, moving the cloth to a different, perfectly clean section of the case.“Rough day at school?” she asked, her voice gentle.I just nodded, not trusting myself to speak. How could I possibly explain? The most popular boy in school thinks I’m a sick pervert and threatened to
Last Updated : 2026-02-17 Read more