Chapter 85 A Cup Of Bitterness

• Mug shots was one of the few open shops I usually visited when I could. It was smaller with less traction than the popular coffee shop at Town Central. However, it seemed like that had changed. It was peculiarly filled up.
• As I stepped in, I'm greeted with a wave of cinnamon warmth and curious glances. A glaring contrast from the silence and the occasional texting notifications of the bored barista.
• The frequently steady hiss of steamed milk and the low murmur of conversations weaving into the hum of Christmas Jazz was not the setting I pictured having a conversation with Becca.