Amber’s POV:
I lean down onto my hands as my elbows make a perfect triangle facing the café window. The same café that my mother worked in and the very place where my father found her. The walls are still bright and flowery and the smell of baked items and coffee still lingers in the air. My mother always spoke about their famous “Lemon-Baked Cheesecake” but it would seem that is no longer the vogue here. Everybody orders the fudge brownies. I think I have picked up a little weight from the copious amounts of chocolate I have had since I worked here. I no longer look as athletic as before. I frown as I look down at the date.
“Where has the time gone?” I say to the little book that decorates my station behind the till. I have been here for two months already. Eight, almost nine weeks wi
