Pinning my hair up, I sighed and pushed the door to my workplace "Coffeeaholics'" open.

I walked briskly to my stop: behind the counter top.

I loved being here, the people, the smell of coffee, cakes, pies, buns all just devilishly wafting into my nose thanks to their ever mouth watering smell, but I unfortunately cannot afford any cause I have loads of bills on my table waiting to be settled and I was already squeezing my budget to stay alive, literally.

My ever pondering landlord, water and light name it...

Putting on my apron, I turned to see my boss, Mr. Phillips, the owner.

"Good day. "

"Hello, Mr. Phillips. "

"That batch of cookies isn't going to pack itself you know? "

"I'm onto it, sir. "

He chuckled.

He's like the dad I never had.

Packing the cookies, I sung to myself

Get the wrapper

Cookies and sprinkles in

And sealed...

Step by step, Rissa, step by step

Keep being THIS slow and the bills are just going to keep piling up dearies

Stupid up, obnoxious.

"Hey Rissa!"

That's my best friend, Sophie McAdams.

Daughter of Thomas McAdams, owner of multiple restaurants here in London.

She had dirty blonde hair, grey eyes and fair skin looking like she was scooped out of a Barbie cartoon.

I rolled my eyes.

"How are you doing?"

"Great. "

I said, spitting pure sarcasm.

Why?

Sophie does NOT work, all she had to do was ask and her dad is ever ready to provide..

Not that I am jealous or anything just that I am pretty sure she's never had to break a sweat or has even heard or understands the word, "broke"

"I'll have my usual."