|
|
Post by Arona Lavenza on Sept 30, 2011 21:33:25 GMT -5
I will not freak out. I will not freak out, Arona thought to herself as she left an annoying customer's table. She grew tired of dealing with them, but had promised herself that she wouldn't scream in their face and dump hot coffee on them.
Jasmin's was a small, fancy Cafe, located beside many other rich-people stores on the clean streets of Havana, Florida. Arona had started working there a year ago, as a waitress.
But she really couldn't complain, since she received a couple hundred every day in tips. Yes, people splurge on coffee, quite often. Judging by the looks of them, they needed as much energy as possible to go waste immense amounts of money on tacky diamond earrings.
Arona Lavenza, in her short black skirt, white ruffle button-up and gray stilettos, didn't look like a waitress. She looked like a fashion designer, especially with her huge peacock earrings. She felt a little odd, and not just at Jasmin's. In Florida, period. She might move again soon; the longing for escape was too strong.
She broke out of her thoughts, waltzing back to the bakery to fill orders. Rich people are impatient, and picky. Not altogether the best company.
Taking her place behind the pristine glass counter, Arona filled some take-out orders, absent-mindedly. Glancing at the clock, she began to think, When can I escape?
She heard someone come in the door and turned to face them, trying to look pleasant. |
|
