JASMINE
The following Wednesday, I finally returned to work. I walked in at seven thirty, ready to position myself for the morning rush. Before I could station myself to begin making drinks, Valerie pulled me in for a hug, taking me aback. There was a line of customers to serve, so she quickly let me go so I could do my job.
Once the café was empty, she came over and said, “Are you okay, Jasmine? I heard everything that happened. I’ve been worried. You haven’t responded to any of my texts.”
“I haven’t been replying to anyone’s texts,” I replied.
“Why not?”
“It’s just too much right now. I don’t really want to talk about it.” She nodded and moved to the back. I grabbed the spray bottle and a rag so I could clean up the café. At least I made it to work. That was progress. I just had to
