Later that night, Zoe entered the Witch's Brew alone. It was a coffeehouse with a gothic theme. The place was dim, lit by candles at each table, and served a variety of specialty drinks and desserts.
It wasn't even a traditional building. It had once been a house. While there were plenty of older patrons who came for the food, and was an alternative to the somewhat more rowdy Spiked Pit if you just wanted acceptance, peace and quiet.
On the weekends, it was full of teenagers. During the week, you could always find a mixed crowd. Tonight, there were just a handful of people.
Zoe's friends were all over at the Spiked Pit, but she'd felt like being alone for a while, and she'd had to get out of the house. She sat in an oversized chair in the corner with her notebook, writing.
One of the waitresses came up to her. "What can I get you?" Zoe thought she knew all the people who worked here.
Zoe looked up. "You new here?"
"Yeah, my name's Morgan," she said. She looked to be about nineteen, with long dark hair down her back and dark eyes filled with good humor.
"You look like something's bothering you," she said. "It's none of my business, of course..."
"Right, it isn't," Zoe said.
"Jeeze, I was just going to suggest a drink...there's this great one with chocolate in it, and by the time you finish it, you'll feel much better," the older girl said.
It was a short while later that Zoe found herself spilling her guts to a complete stranger. She wasn't sure why. It was as if the more she drank from the oversized cup, the looser her tongue got.
