9 WinnieWinnie peered through the plate glass. Outside in the parking lot, light from the street lamp glinted off a freshly-painted black pickup and a white Ford Focus with a crunched rear bumper and out-of-state plates. She counted six empty spaces between the two vehicles. Nora’s Buick was a dark blue mass in a shadowy corner.
She swiped her damp cloth along the counter running beneath the windows. The smell of coffee saturated the air she inhaled, making her edgy. This Wednesday was her third night working late shift at Pacific Fine Coffee. She had another half-hour to endure until she closed at midnight. Only three diehard customers lingered indoors.
They’d all arrived at ten o’clock. Not one had done a damn thing to help her pass the time. And nobody had pulled into the drive-throug
