The Barista by Lovelyn Bettison

Author:Lovelyn Bettison
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Nebulous Mooch
Published: 2018-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Damon sat on Lisa's bed watching her dump a pile of receipts into a black trash bag.

"Why do you have so many receipts?" he asked.

"I don't even know. I just collected them over the years. You know how you buy something and just shove the receipt into your wallet with the change."

"Yeah, and if you don't need them for your taxes you throw them away when you get home."

"Or you put them in your desk drawer because for some reason that seems easier at the time." Lisa tied the bag closed.

The room was disorganized. Clothing, paper, and books lay strewn across the floor. No flat surface in the room was bare. Damon wondered if she'd get all of it sorted out in time for her to leave. "I see why you can't go to Miami with me," he said, looking around at the mess. "It would take me forever to get a handle on all of this."

"Don't be so encouraging." Lisa pulled a drawer out of her dresser and set it on the floor. She sat down in front of it on the beige carpet. "I'm not normally this messy. Usually, everything is tucked away in drawers out of sight."

"That's hard to believe." Damon couldn't believe the amount of stuff in the room, but he couldn't judge. Since getting his house, he'd collected more odds and ends than any one person needed.

"Well, it's true." Lisa snorted.

Damon slid off the bed and joined her on the floor. Stacks of old photos filled the drawer. She pulled one out and handed it to him. He looked at it and saw a skinny little girl with a pointy chin. Two shoulder-length pigtails sprouted from her head. "How old were you in this picture?" he asked.

"You knew it was me." Her voice rang with delight.

"You look just the same." Damon had noticed that some people always have the same face while other people grew into their features, their faces evolving into adulthood. He was one of those people. The frail boy with large glasses he once was bore no resemblance to the sturdy man he had become.

Lisa picked up another picture of herself as a girl and looked at it closely. "I guess you're right." She put the picture in a shoebox next to her. "I think I was four in that picture." She sighed. "I never realized how many things I had until I started packing. I always thought of myself as a bit of a minimalist, but now I'm wondering if I'm actually a pack rat." She motioned to the walk-in closet on the other side of the room. "My closet seemed like the TARDIS when I was trying to clean it out. I found boxes in it with report cards from elementary school and the pictures I drew in kindergarten. Aren't my parents supposed to keep those kinds of things, not me?"

Damon shrugged. "My mother has everything I ever made in boxes in the attic. I'm prolific so that's a lot of stuff.

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