"Don't worry about me, Beckett. Please tell me the truth, thank you." Avery Jane's lips curled into a bleak smile, her eyes filled with confusion and sadness, along with the resentment of being deceived.
The aroma of hot coffee filled the café, the soft yellow light above cast on her face as the gentle man spoke of her lost past. Bit by bit, her sorrow grew like a rapidly climbing vine, wrapping around her from the feet up, entwining and enveloping her completely, cutting her off from sunlight, warmth, freedom — from everything. She felt so cold, almost to the point of fainting. Avery picked up the steaming coffee from the table, gripping it tightly with both hands, sipping it slowly, but the fragrant coffee tasted as bitter as medicine, numbing her tongue.
