a/n:  this hasn't been revised. :(  sorry lmao.  also on as-afterparty.

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            There were thirty-two signs of winter, she had been taught, starting with clothes and ending with true love.
            Nine-year old Jinah sat on the edge of her grandmother’s red and crème embroidered armchair sipping peppermint hot chocolate from a blue clay cup and watching a Christmas program on TV while the windows became frosted over with white snow.  Between her almond skin and the green blanket wrapped around it was an untouchable veil of happiness and warmth.
            “Jinah!  Why don’t you go outside and play on the sled with your brother?”
            “Just five more minutes!” she shouted, completely aware of the fact that even after ten minutes, she would still be sitting in front of the TV.

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            Nine-year old Jinah would never have found that life to seem fictitious or of nonpareil happiness in the least, but, then again, nine-year old Jinah would never have been stupid enough to get herself stuck in the inescapable trap that was female modeling with a side of work in a coffee shop just to help pay her rent.
            There was one inevitable happening in everyone’s life, she had taught herself, and that was the fall from reverie into reality.  For some people, it just happened to be a bit more painful.


“Any may I ask why a model like you is working here?”
            The man’s chin was rested on his hand, his elbow on the counter.  Jinah wished that he didn’t have to stare in such a deviant manner, that his lips weren’t made to look red and purple and “tragically beautiful”.  Jinah wished that he could simply disappear.  Jinah wished for a lot of things.
            “Here’s your coffee.”
            She made sure that their hands didn’t so much as brush when handing him the steaming drink.
            “Ah,” he said, “thank you.”  The man sipped on his coffee, perhaps expecting the girl to match his hungry stare.  “Delicious.”
            Mentally, she rolled her eyes and came up with a thousand and one snarky replies.
            “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.  I have more customers,” she said, motioning to the growing line of scarf-clad and beanie-wearing customers.  #1.  Jinah made a mental note.
            “You’re no fun,” he said, pouting.
            Jinah took a deep breath.
            “Next?”
            “I’ll take a pumpkin spice latte, extra hot.”
            “Sure,” she said.  “Glad to serve anyone but him,” she added under her breath.

            By the end of the day, Jinah felt completely and utterly drained.  One could only serve so many dazed-on-caffeine fifteen year-olds looking to find cliché love in a coffee shop before giving in to what was the very epitome of boredom.  The five-step trip over the milk steamer had become a sickening routine; she figured that inhaling even a tiny bit more pumpkin syrup would trigger something maniacal inside of her.
            For those reasons (and many more), she was more than happy to walk up to the frost-covered window and change the white-washed sign from “open” to “closed”.  Jinah took a deep breath.
            But, seconds after she flipped the sign, the copper bell rung and a girl came skipping in.
            “Sorry, we-“
            Jinah stopped short in the middle of her sentence.  The girl looked young, sixteen, maybe seventeen; realistically, Jinah knew that the was probably eighteen or nineteen, but her fantasies of all things youthful and great were neverending.  The girl carried an ingenuous and vibrant essence with her, one that would carry endless quantities of warmth.
            Jinah cleared .
            “Can I get you anything?”
            The girl pursed and twisted her lips for a moment; she was in no rush.
            “I think I’ll have a peppermint hot chocolate.”
            Jinah gave her best smile, a fraction of a smile at most.
            “Coming right up.”

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a/n:  this was really short, but i just wanted to get it published.  hope you enjoy!