Somewhere in the past. I left my purse on the wooden table when I heard the coffee owner call my name. My cup was ready, and I couldn't be more grateful. Because being sentenced, no subjected to that crappy table, while waiting for my own cup to be made was no joke, even though it was self-inflicted.I could have just stayed on the line, but I didn't. Why? Well, for one, I couldn't stand the length of the waiting line, and secondly, I just didn't have the strength to suffer. I wasn't weak or anything, just reluctant.No, pampered.Oh please, not that nagging voice in my head again.I dismissed the thought and stepped in front of the line, in an attempt to collect my drink from the pretty lady behi
Last Updated : 2020-07-22 Read more