Page 4 of Brittle Heart

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“Thank you, dear.” Mr. Simmons gently touches my hand when I refill his coffee cup.

“Would you like another bagel?” I ask him with a smile.

I like the old man, and he comes here almost every day.

“My doctor wouldn’t approve,” he shares, his expression telling me he disagrees.

“If you don’t tell him, I won’t either.” I wink at him.

He chuckles. “Sure, dear. Please bring me another one.”

“Coming right up,” I reply before returning to the cash register, where my boss, Mrs. Miller, is waiting.

She looks at me sadly. “You’re great with the customers,” she says, and I feel a sense of unease in her tone.

“What’s wrong, Mrs. Miller?” I ask.

She nervously twists her hands. “The café hasn’t been making enough money lately.”

I brace myself, already sensing where this conversation is headed. I’ve truly enjoyed working here.

The pay is decent, the people are kind, and I genuinely like being here, unlike my job at the bar.

“So, you’re letting me go,” I state in a calm and neutral tone.

She nods, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m truly sorry, Carolina, but you won’t need to come in tomorrow.”

I nod. “All right. Thank you. I appreciated the opportunity to work here.”

Mrs. Miller grabs my shoulders, pulling me into a hug. “We loved having you here too, honey. And if you ever need a recommendation for another job, I’ll make sure to speak highly of you.”

I normally don’t get hugs. Usually, I’m the one giving them to Chiara, so I feel awkward.

I carefully extract myself from her embrace, grab a bagel and say, “We shouldn’t keep Mr. Simmons waiting.”

Mrs. Miller nods, wiping away a tear.

Damn, what am I going to do now?

CHAPTERTHREE

Carolina

After getting my paycheck, saying goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Miller took longer than expected. Now, I’m rushing to make it to the homeless shelter before I need to be at the bar for my shift.

Today, it feels like I’m just running from place to place. Not that it’s any different on any other day, but at least the pace is usually slower.

The heavy shelter door creaks as I push it open, revealing the bustle of people in the big but rather dark entrance hall. I greet a few familiar faces as I make my way in, my eyes scanning the room for one person in particular.

She exits her office, eyes buried in a stack of papers. “Gloria!” I call out.

She pauses, her gaze shifting from the documents in her hand to me. Her face lights up with a warm smile. “Carolina, what a pleasant surprise!”

We meet halfway, her hand grasping mine in a reassuring squeeze. “It’s been too long, dear. How’ve you been?” she asks, a genuine look in her eyes.

I nod, feeling a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry, I’ve been swamped lately.”

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