Karl arrived at work the next day, his face carefully blank as he stepped behind the counter. The familiar beeping of the register, the distant hum of the refrigerator units, and the soft chatter of customers filled the air. It was almost comforting—almost.
And then he walked in.
Eric Langley.
Karl stiffened the moment he saw him, but what caught him off guard wasn't the sight of Eric—it was the way he acted.
The bastard was smiling.
Not his usual smug, condescending grin, but something else. Something friendly.
"Karl, my man!" Eric greeted, walking right up to the counter with an exaggerated grin. "You wouldn't believe the dreams I had last night—crazy stuff, man. But you? You were in them." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And dude, I gotta say, I think we're meant to be best friends."