Tia Escanto places her hand on my shoulder as she hands me one of her signature mocha lattes, “Here, Penelope, it looks like you’re going to need it.” The sun is a golden hue as it slowly fades into the horizon, but with my groggy mind, I can’t tell if it’s the morning or the afternoon.
“You are a god-sent, Tia,” I thank her as I take a sip of the warm fragrant coffee. I’d been up all night monitoring the social media numbers while preparing for today’s event.
Tia laughs lightly, “Me? You’re the one who managed to re-open my café. I should be praying novenas in your name, Penelope.”
Tia brushed a strand of white hair from her face. The wrinkles on her brown skin are hard to see, and under the right lighting, one would think that she was a
