51
Charlotte Sanguinite Then I see the bright lights of a coffee shop, and feeling relieved, I release my weapon back into its case. It’s a small place, with only one customer sitting in a corner, a book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. The man behind the counter nods at us. “Welcome. What can I get you?” Terrence looks at me. “What would you like to have?” “Hot chocolate,” I reply, not needing the caffeine right now. “I’ll have the same,” Terrence tells the barista. I look at Terrence from the corner of my eye. He hates chocolate. At least, the teenager I remember used to. We take a seat in an open booth at the back, and there is a curious look in Terrence’s eyes. “I can’t sense your energy.” It’s instinct to cover the bracelet with the sleeve of the trench coat to hide
- Writer
