Sketches
“It was hot and it tasted really good. I took another sip, a bigger one this time.
I was never allowed coffee at home. My mother thought I was too young to drink it. Funny how you can be too young for something but old enough for something else altogether.
“Good coffee, huh?” Brent said.
“The first cup in the morning is always the best,” I told him.
Ashley nodded her head.
“Doughnut?” Brent asked, offering me the bag. “Thanks.”
“Definitely,” Ashley agreed.
I reached into the bag and picked out a double chocolate. Doughnuts and coffee—our version of the elegant breakfast buffet, even if we were sitting on the curb outside our squat.
I stretched, trying to work some of the kinks out of my back. When I woke up in the morning I was usually so stiff that I felt like an old woman. Sleeping on the ground, or a desk, or a concrete floor didn’t ever make for a good night’s sleep. Being on the streets meant always being sore, or hungry, or tired, and sometimes all three at once.
Write Review:
Guest
Read Also
9 / 10
10 / 10
7 / 10
10 / 10
User Reviews: