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They’re ne, Sarika said dismissively with a wave
of her hand, and Leila caught several seriously irritated
stares. There were only four people in the line, but in a
relatively small space like Adam’s, particularly around the
coffee bar, that made it look endless. What did he say
What happened
Oh, nothing, Leila said, balling up the coffee soaked
napkins and tossing them in a nearby bin. “Something
about taking a flier and that he’d see me around.
Okay, you go investigate the flier situation, Sarika
said curtly. I’ll
Oh my od, Sarika, what is happening over here
Mr. Hathaway shouted, walking out of the kitchen to the
ever growing line of SarikaTheBarista fans. Leila smiled.
When you could actually see Adam Hathaway in plain
sight, he was a good looking guy. Slim and incredibly tall,
with the sort of hipster, curly mustache you generally
spotted all around the Northern Liberties neighborhood
of Philadelphia, and brightly colored tattoos up and down
his arms. A purple tentacle from the Watchmen comic
curled around his upper bicep, easy to see when he wore
a small t shirt like today. His eyes were wide and pan
icked as he surveyed the customers that were shifting
about anxiously.
I’ll get back to work, Sarika nished with a grin. You
go see what the deal is.
Sarika bounded back over to the espresso machine,
leapt over the countertop, and started doing her thing.
Leila looked over the table for any leftover cold brew
droplets before making her way to the bulletin board,

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