My Sexy Coffeehouse Killer

Sleepy. I feel so sleepy. The alarm is blaring next to my head, and from under the soft covers, I poke one arm out and blindly feel for my phone to shut off the inane ringing. I blink my bleary eyes, trying to get my vision in focus to check the time. 10:54am. s**t. I'm late. As I scramble to get off of bed, I hear a hiss and look down. My beautiful black cat stares up at me with his luminescent green eyes, which show how he feels betrayed that I shoved him off of me so abruptly. "I'm sorry Nero! I'll make it up to you later, but mommy needs to leave RIGHT now. I'm almost late for my shift!" I tie my hair up, pulling on the first pink top and skinny jeans I can find, and grab my apron and keys and run out the door. My hand pauses as I touch the handle on the door. I look back. "There's food in your bowl," I nod my head toward Nero's bowl. He blinks at me in response. My eyes scan the rest of my loft. Everything's a mess. The strewn clothes, fluffy white blanket haphazardly thrown on the floor, a yellowing money-plant next to the window. Man, it looks rough. I'm sure I don't look better though. My eyes eventually rest on the photo of my father that's sitting on my bedside table. He is— was— the hardest-working person in the world. Gosh, he would be so disappointed in me right now. "Don't knock anything over. I love you!" I head out.