Third Person POV
The afternoon air was a bit crisp.
Brielle walked fast, she was already very late as it was. It was mid afternoon and she had still not opened her bar.
Her heels clicked against the pavement in a rhythm that matched her mood rushed, she was already irritated with the day before it had properly begun.
Her keys were somewhere at the bottom of her bag, buried beneath receipts, a half-empty tube of lipstick, and God only knew what else.
She shoved her hand deeper into the chaos, fingers brushing against loose change, a broken pen, the edge of her phone.
“Where the hell are you?” She searched for the keys.
Her mind wasn't on the street. It was on the delivery that hadn't shown up yesterday. On the staff member who'd called in sick for the third time this month.
She wa
