6

Star

“Wanna do breakfast?” Rosa, my best friend, asks. I’ve know her since we were in primary school, and she’s always taken it upon herself to look out for me. She doesn’t sound quite

awake yet.

“Yes,” I say automatically. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” “Bullshit.”

“What makes you so sure something’s up?” I ask. “Let’s call it tone.”

“I’ll tell you when I see you.” “But you’re all right?”

“Yes.”

“Sure?” she insists. “Sure.” “Lucianos?” “Okay.”

“Can you get there in twenty minutes?” “I can get there in ten,” I tell her.

“See you in ten, then.”

As I park the car it starts pouring down with rain so I hold my bag over my head and run into the café. As I stand inside the doorway brushing my hands down my light jacket, I spot Rosa. You cannot miss her.

She is stick-thin with flaming red hair cut into a smooth bob. She is wearing scarlet lipstick and what looks like a lace