“No, not really.” she said as she sipped the hot tea, taking comfort from its warmth.The taste and smell felt familiar and reassuring, but then th... memories crowded in and her mind wandered. She had learned about fresh brewed tea from her mother who drank it every day, and they’d often shared a pot on weekend mornings when they were alone in the house, especially on those icy Chicago winter days. When was the last time she’d even had freshly brewed tea? Certainly before her parents were killed. The only problem was, which way? I looked around for anybody who could help me. But there was not soul in sight. My first thought was to check the small train station in front of me. I walked towards it and stepped into a small hall. I heard a voice from the other end of the hall so I headed in that direction. There was a booth where a very obese man, around his mid-forties, was sitting and sleeping. In front of him on the counter was a small bell. I rang it. “AH! What, what? Who are you?”. Of course, she had on a pair of black thigh highs and some high heels. She enjoyed the mens eyes on her when they arrived and said that they were both probably in their thirties and very nice. As the meeting progressed, they would continue to stare at her and she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs. She caught both men spending more time with their eyes on her than on Louie. It became clear to her that they liked what they saw and soon the attention they were paying to her started to turn. "Rick shrugged, "So, you're not even a little intrigued?"Emily shook her head, "Not even a little." No chance that will change?"Another head shake, "Maybe if I lose every scrap of self-esteem I currently possess."Rick's smile returned. With a practiced move, he produced a business card, "Great. If that happens, here's my number."Rick caught up with Max and Chance outside the dance studio. The room was empty except for a couple of clerks from Coleman using the mats for floor exercises.Searching.
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