Baila opens up about how difficult it is to adjust to small-town life. Cookie asks Laylee why she never calls her by her nickname,
T he snowbanks had grown dingy in the days since the blizzard their once pristine presence now a blight. Laylee inhaled as she entered The Coffee House the smell of roasted coffee beans infusing irresistible cheer into the bleak winter morning.
“Can I get a large non-fat vanilla latte with almond milk no sugar. And—” Laylee turned to Sarah.
Sarah rubbed her hands together for warmth. “Just hot water.”
“Just hot water?” Laylee asked incredulously.
“I’m not a coffee person.”
“But… we’re out for coffee.”
The barista raised her eyebrows. “Ma’am?”
“Um. And one hot water please.”
They grabbed their cups and made their way to an empty table. Sarah opened the top releasing ribbons of steam into the air. After one blessedly silent moment Laylee began talking. “I had no answer for her… There was nothing to say.”
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