Chapter 9: A Shift

I don't see him today.

It shouldn't matter, and I shouldn't notice, but I do. It's a quiet, nagging realization that creeps in somewhere between scanning a bag of oranges and restocking the shelf of canned soup. Ethan isn't here. No cherry lollipop. No lazy smirk. No casual, deliberate stroll down aisle four.

It's stupid, really. Customers come and go, faces blend together, and I shouldn't expect anything different. But for the past few weeks, he's been the one thing in my day that's felt... consistent. Predictable. Something to look forward to, even if I won't admit that to anyone, not even myself.

"Lily, can you cover register three?"

I blink, snapping out of my thoughts. Shelly, my shift manager, waves at me from across the store, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she gestures toward the front.

"Yeah, on it." I grab my name tag and head over. The line isn't too bad, just a few customers waiting with carts full of weeknight dinners and impulse buys. I settle into the rhythm—scan, bag, smile, repeat. It's mindless work, but today, my mind refuses to quiet down.

Where is he?

I shake the thought away. Maybe he got busy. Maybe he finally got sick of cherry lollipops. Maybe I imagined the way his eyes always found mine, like it wasn't just a routine for him either.

Or maybe I'm just ridiculous.

The afternoon drags, and by the time my break rolls around, I'm exhausted. I grab a bottle of water and step into the break room, sinking into the lumpy couch by the vending machine. The hum of the refrigerator fills the silence. I check my phone, scrolling mindlessly, but my fingers hover over my messages longer than they should.

I don't have Ethan's number. Of course, I don't. We don't talk outside of those fleeting moments at checkout. And yet, something about today feels off. The absence of him leaves a weird, empty space I don't know how to fill.

I sigh, shake off the thought, and head back onto the floor. The store is busier now, filled with the usual after-work rush. I focus on the task at hand, scanning, bagging, smiling—going through the motions like I always do.

Then, just as I start to accept that today is just another ordinary, uneventful day, the door chimes.

And there he is.

Ethan.

A little later than usual, wearing a hoodie that looks a little too big, hands tucked into his pockets. His gaze finds mine instantly, and I swear there's something different about him today—something duller, weighed down.

He walks straight toward my register, bypassing the candy aisle altogether. No lollipop. Just him.

"Hey," he says, his voice lower than usual.

"Hey." My brows furrow slightly. "You okay?"

A pause. A flicker of hesitation in his dark eyes before he nods. "Yeah. Just... long day."

I get the feeling there's more to it than that, but I don't push. Instead, I do the only thing that makes sense in the moment—I grab a cherry lollipop from the rack beside me and drop it into his hand.

His fingers curl around it slowly. Then, for the first time today, he smiles.

It's small. Barely there. But I can tell—it's forced.

Something is off, but he doesn't want to talk about it. And for now, I won't make him.

He is just a customer and we aren't even friends or have anything going on that would make him want to talk to me about anything

Yeah a customer

Ethan