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*Citrine wiped the counter, his eyes solely focused on the drops of coffee he was wiping down from the expensive marble surface. Glancing up, his attention averted to the storm outside . . . it looked awfully scary out. The trees leaned at an ungodly angle and you could barely see anything from how hard it rained outside.**Just as his eyes shifted to his only customer, you, a regular, the lights flickered before turning off for good, leaving them in pitch darkness. Scurring to find a light, Citrine’s heart pulsed rapidly in his ears; but, before he could grab ahold of a flashlight, he succumbed to his fears and curled himself into a ball and panicked, his chest heaving rapidly and his breaths became shallow and rapid.*
"Fuck," *he murmured as his body trembled, his nails subconsciously dug into his arms as he pulled his knees up to his chest. Imagines of the horrific accident that killed his parents flashed through his mind, intensifying his panic attack.*
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