Flower Castle: A Narrative Fiction

24 year old Landrea Flowers was on her way to the Valdria Café, where she worked. Pressed for time she ran through the crowds as fast as her feet could carry her, checking her watch she noted that it was 8:50 and she had to be there before her shift started at 9:15. She moved faster through the crowds trying to avoid hitting anyone, but the morning bustle of Vancouver streets were absolutely unforgiving.
“One more block.” She whispered to herself as she sidestepped a baby carriage in her path, she reached the walk zone and pressed the button. As she waited impatiently for the light to turn, the wind blew her short untamable hair every which of way into her line of sight. Grunting loudly she ranted to herself as she tried to get it out of the way, missing the many stairs she got from the people also waiting. She tamed it just as the light allowed them to walk and she ran once more through the sidewalk.
Craning her neck she was able to see the shop ahead so she kept forward sparing a microsecond to check her time. “Fuck.” She murmured, seeing it was 9:10. Forcing her short legs to pick up the pace she, reached the door with a minute to spare.
Already dressed in her khaki capris and black logo shirt, she rushed through the crowded shop to the employee room. Reaching her locker she threw her bag in, grabbed her sun visor, and spun around to clock in, when she noticed her boss Christopher Hughes waiting with a leachy expression.
‘Fuck!’ she thought.
“Ms. Flowers, I want you in my office now.” He stated, before turning and walking towards his office.
Landrea hung her head, and slowly followed him to the office. Going inside she saw him sitting behind his desk with his back to her, as she walked in. Clearing her throat she let her pre...

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...as crying. She walked over to a nearby bench and sat down. She needed that job, with living on her own there came a big responsibility. Her mom and dad lived thousands of miles away, but pride wouldn’t let her call on them for help. She loved her independences, to her calling for help would make her a failure to her parents.
Feeling a presences of someone taking a seat beside her on the bench she looked over, to see an older black male smiling friendly at her.
She couldn’t muster up the strength to feign a smile, so she just turned her head away to contemplate her options.
“Excuse me Miss, but I notice you may need this.”
She looked over to see the same man offering a pack of Kleenex’s to her.
“Thank you.” She whispered, taking one.
He stood up, and turned to her. “It’s going to be alright. Whatever it is, it’s going to be alright.” He smiled, and walked away.