'The humidity hung in the dark like a shroud. It silenced the streets with only the rattling hum of the air conditioners piercing its veil. Nights like these can bring no good. Best to turn out the lights and wait for tomorrow...' A spatula slapping the top of a grease encrusted bell interrupted the story. The cook whacked at the bell mercilessly, his life choices expressed in every flick of the wrist. Becka flipped the book face-down, leaving it on the counter beside the coffee machine. She hadn't meant to start in the middle, but the broken spine opened there. "Women, Wine and Overtime", forgotten by a customer, found its way to Becka as she cleaned a table.
10 parts