Devin stood at the counter of the Escamonde Cafe staring blankly at the silent walnut tree, dimly visible in the fogged-out morning light. The previous night, with its expedition to the Rousten manor, had been Friday and he was on duty for his usual early Saturday shift.
It was only eight and his exhaustion was already showing. So far he’d knocked a bag of fair trade Costa Rican coffee beans into the trash, made a large mocha for a surly man who’d actually ordered a cappuccino and spilled a caramel latte with two extra shots on a cute blonde’s skirt. Fortunately, it was way too early for Ramona to show up or he certainly would’ve alre...
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