The wailing clerk's eyes, devoid of any redness, drifted to her face. "Okay... you're right."
'See? Who says communication is useless? We live in a society, and the most important thing is communication—'
"Come on over," the wailing clerk beckoned to her.
Mai Mingle froze.
"The door's behind me."
The crying expression on his face was slowly starting to lift. The corners of his mouth rose fastest, so fast it almost became a smile. "If you want to get out, then come over here. Boo hoo hoo."
'It's hopeless.'
Without another word, Mai Mingle strode to the coffee table, raised her foot, and kicked it forward with all her might. Pain shot up her sole and calf, but the table didn't budge an inch.
'Why would a coffee shop bolt its tables to the floor?! Are they afraid people will steal them or something?'
