Being Prime

THERE was this saying that, "life will always throw lemons at you, what matters is what you do with your lemons."   That saying was crap.   Life didn't just throw lemons at people, she also dictated what they'd do with those lemons. Hence, we didn't really have a say in anything. It was why she was called life.   That established, I didn't expect the lemon life had decided to hit me with—   "We're selling the cafe."    —right in the forehead.   I stared at the owner of the cafe I worked at, blinking furiously. He stared back at me, hands tucked into his trouser pockets and lips drawn together.    Quick rewind: this cafe, the one about to be sold was the cafe I'd been working at for about year. Ever since my accommodation issues began, of taken solace in the availability of this abode. . .or workplace. And now, it was going to be

0 2 The Prime      I WAS seated at the far end of the cafeteria. My arms laid on the table, spread around my lunch tray. Peace engulfed me— 'Baby shark' blared out of the speakers of my phone, causing me to panic and grab it. At least, I tried to. It bounced around in my hands before I caught it with both hands, grinning stupidly at no one in particular. The students around me didn't seem to care, they just chatted away like nothing had happened. I exhaled and cursed myself for setting a lunch alarm then turned it off completely and grasping it in one hand. Save for the chatter around the cafeteria, my table was quiet. I liked that the students respected me enough to give me an entire table all to myself. Then again, that could have been because they didn't notice me sitting there. I didn'