He turned the engine off and read the text before putting the phone in his pocket. It was his friend. They texted each other several times a day. But he didn't look at his phone when driving. He wouldn't respond to this text until later. There was nothing to say right now. Just his friend venting about how hard life was in New York.

He had nothing to say about New York. Had never been there. Had hardly spent time in big cities. To him 

Westcity

was a big city. He was back for the holidays. Had just arrived. The first place he stopped by was the cafe here.

The high school and weight room where he used to spend a lot of his time was now a remnant of his past. The cafe still beckoned. It was run by a girl who was two years younger than him. Began working at the cafe full-time straight out of high school because she didn't get into any university. Her counselor messed up her job applications.

The temporary full-time job became permanent. Then by the time she was 21 the owner ran into some personal and financial issues. So the girl, barely able to drink legally, inherited the business.

He liked this about her. Made her seem strong. Most girls he knew at college were worried about petty things. Grades and shit. But here was this girl. Running an entire business. He could get on board with that. Buying a coffee there before heading to his parents? yes please.

The bell dinged as he entered. Oil from ground coffee filled the air.