The Story of Us
of parents
helping. A lot of sad goodbyes. And a lot of eager jumping up and
down when they leave. This is the start of a new life. I know it
sounds cliché, but it really is. It’s closing a chapter that I know
by heart and opening one that’s blurry and unclear. It’s scary as
hell, but in a good way. The possibilities are endless.
    When I get to the cafeteria, I notice
the pizza shop just behind it. The delicious aroma makes its way
into my path. What a cruel trick. No doubt I’ll be gaining the
freshman fifteen. Who would eat crappy cafeteria food when there’s
delicious greasy pizza to be had? As I approach the pizza shop, the
coffee shop finally comes into sight. Aha! I knew I’d find it over
here with the treasured pizza. I know I’ll be visiting this section
of the campus often.
    The coffee shop, or The Grind, as the
sign refers, is a small building with floor-to-ceiling windows
aligning the whole front, with the exception of the bright red
double doors. A bell chirps when I open one of the red doors; the
kind that lets someone know they have a customer. I instantly look
around, but no one’s here, not even an employee behind the counter.
I take a deep breath, inhaling the intoxicating smell of coffee.
It’s easily my favorite smell in the whole world. There’s tables
placed up against the windows and a couple smaller ones filling in
the gaps between those tables and the coffee counter. The counter
is extremely long, nearly the length of the whole building. On the
counter, they have a register, various pastry items for sale, cream
and milk canisters, multiple types of sugars, stirrers, napkins, a
refrigerator filled with juices, and the list goes on. Above the
counter are hanging star-shaped lights. Behind the counter, hung up
on a long brick wall, are five chalkboards aligned side-by-side,
each with the names and descriptions of the different coffees they
offer. It reminds me of a Starbucks, but not quite as fancy. A
rustic, more run-down Starbucks.
    I wait for a couple minutes, looking
around and taking everything in. Then I start to get frustrated. Is
anyone even working here? I wait another minute and then I go over
to the door, open it and close it again so that the bell chimes
once more. Then I continue to wait.
    Finally, the door behind the counter
opens and I hear laughing. Giggling, actually. And then I see a
couple entangled in each other’s arms, fully dressed, but intimate
nonetheless.
    “Ahem,” I blatantly declare, making my
presence known.
    “Oh!” the girl exclaims, suddenly
noticing me. She actually looks a little embarrassed, although she
knew full well that she was coming out into the public area of the
coffee shop engaged in the arms of some guy. And just when I start
to think about what kind of a guy this must be, who’s unashamedly
groping this girl in public, he turns around.
    “What the hell?” I shriek, half in disbelief, half in confusion,
and maybe a little in anger.
    “Princess?” He asks, with a sideways
smirk on his face.
    Suddenly, the little bit of anger I
had turns into full blown rage. I want to slap the smirk off of his
face. I want to slap him for calling me princess. I want to slap
him for whatever he was doing with this girl. I want to slap him
for being here, at WSC, altogether. “What the hell are you doing
here?” I manage to ask through gritted teeth.
    He laughs before answering, and I
swear it pisses me off even more. “I work here.”
    “Why?”
    “Why, what?”
    “Why do you work
here?” I shout.
    “Because I need the money,” he
nonchalantly answers.
    I glance over at the girl, who is now
standing a few feet away from him and looking extremely confused,
and then I turn my gaze back to him. I try to control my anger, but
it still comes through. “I mean, why are you here at
WSC?”
    “Because I go here.” He
shrugs.
    My eyes go wide. “You’re enrolled
here? You live here?” I ask in disbelief.
    “Yepp. Luckily for you, this could be
an

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