She watched the changing of the guard with amused disinterest. After all, they were just supposed to be some random customers, and she was just making their food. She could be amused with their comings and goings, but if she looked properly interested in them—well, people would find that weird.
To the untrained eye, it looked like the annoyed soccer mom drags her exhausted self into the shop after her children were off to school for the day. She ordered a skinny something or other with a detailed list of the exact pumps of flavoring. She had barely let her ass hit the chair before she was fidgeting with her phone, looking up god knows what.
Exactly three minutes and forty two seconds later, the college kid in the corner shut his laptop. He packed up his bag methodically, making sure that everything was going to just barely fit, before throwing it over his shoulder and heading out the door, leaving the wrapper from his breakfast sandwich and his straw sitting on the table. He clutched the coffee like the world was going to end, though, and brought that with him.
And that was it. She had been handed over to the next guard. Soccer mom would be around for about four hours—then it would be clean cut business man for a little while, then young girl with her hair dyed purple. Tomorrow, it’d be a different collection of people. No one would connect them. No one would dream that they were there to protect her. But she couldn’t be left unattended. The real world was a scary place.