Page 49 - EAMMV9covers

NICHOLAS BOOTHMAN
Chapter 8:
But, I Don’t Talk to Strangers
January 2019.
White flakes. Thick and fast. Newcastle. Eric
Hogan looks up from the hunk of Krispy Kreme
doughnut he was about to dunk into his coffee. Then
boom, the chaos erupted.
Four noisy teenagers tumbled into the booth
directly in front of him. Doughnuts in one hand, drinks
and phones the other, knapsacks dangling from
shoulders and elbows, they nudged and scrunched
themselves in to the booth. Energetic. Absorbed.
Radiant. Winter jackets off. Eric's eyes rolled
heavenward. 'Just what I need.'
But as he watched the teens settle in, something
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