Literature
The Spy
The bitter wind pierced through her thick jacket like daggers but she seemed to pay no mind. Her deep brown eyes gazed relentlessly at the cafe window glowing with warmth. From her slumped position on the bench, she could clearly see through the glossy surface, waitresses passing by every-so-often with a steaming mug or two in their palms.
Another gust of wind howled and she tried to bury herself deeper into her coat. She had been sitting in the same spot for almost as hour, waiting, her legs long frozen into popsicles of flesh and bone. The wind blew again and she shivered a little, biting her chapped lips. "It's all worth it," her voice wa