Chapter 9
Don did try to talk, too late and too desperate. Sounds that weren’t syllables came out.
“Super-cute,” Kit said happily, and went to help another regular who’d come in for a large iced coffee.
* * * *
Summer bounced in, reflecting aureate from office buildings and bridges and the blue of the Pacific Ocean. Don drew fireworks, sparkles, explosions of ice for the windows, and put his personal talents to work keeping the coffee shop cool and inviting. Uncommon Grounds had a reputation for ice-cold summer beverages, and he was not above employing his heritage for it.
He was aware that a certain strain of thought among Personifications would’ve considered this beneath him. He’d mentally shrugged and ignored that whole argument a long time ago. He was happy, his customers were happy, and they all had cold drinks.