Seraphina’s POV
"Next!" I called out, forcing my voice to sound cheerful despite wanting to crawl under the counter and disappear forever.
The custor—a middle-aged woman with a scowl that could curdle milk—slamd her items down so hard the bananas nearly bounced off the conveyor belt.
"This store is a joke," she announced. "Twenty minutes in line! Twenty minutes!"
"I’m sorry about the wait, ma’am. We’re a bit short-staffed today—"
"Don’t give excuses!" She jabbed her finger at . "I’ve been shopping here for fifteen years, and the service gets worse every ti!"
I scanned her items chanically. Behind her, the line stretched halfway to the pharmacy, filled with equally irritated custors checking their phones and sighing dramatically.
"That’ll be thirty-two forty-seven," I said.
"Highway robbery," she muttered, slapping her credit card down. "In my day, you could feed a family for ten dollars."
*In your day, people probably didn’t treat retail workers like garbage,* I thought but didn’t say. Instead, I smiled that fake custor service smile I’d perfected.
"Have a great day!"
She snorted and stalked off with her bags.
"Next!"
This was my life now. Eight hours a day, six days a week, dealing with people who acted like I was personally responsible for everything wrong with their existence.
But it was a paycheck. A tiny paycheck that barely covered my rent and ran noodle dinners, but money nonetheless.
"Oh my God, that woman was such a bitch!"
I looked up to see Mia bouncing over from register two, her cotton candy pink hair catching the harsh fluorescent lights. She was barely twenty-two, all energy and confidence and the kind of fearless optimism that ca from never having your world collapse around you.
"Mia, she might still be in the store," I warned.
"So? I said what I said." She hopped up onto the counter next to my register, swinging her legs. "Life’s too short to pretend an people aren’t an."
"Don’t let Gary see you sitting there," I said. "He’s already in a mood about the quarterly numbers."
"Gary’s always in a mood about sothing." Mia rolled her eyes. "Yesterday it was the bathroom supplies. Last week it was the magazine display. The man needs to get laid."
"Mia!"
"What? It’s true! Sexual frustration makes people cranky. It’s science."
Before I could respond, my register beeped. Another custor approached—a tired-looking man with three kids hanging off his shopping cart like monkeys.
"Sorry," he said, shooting Mia an apologetic look. "They’ve been cooped up all day."
"No problem at all," I said, aning it this ti. At least he was polite. "Did you find everything okay?"
"Actually, I’m looking for that new kids’ cereal? The one with the rainbow marshmallows?"
"Aisle seven, halfway down on the left," Mia called out before I could answer. "Next to the Lucky Charms. Fair warning though—it turns their poop weird colors."
The man’s eyes went wide. One of his kids—maybe six years old—started giggling uncontrollably.
"She said poop!" the kid announced to the entire store.
"Thank you for that vital information," the man said dryly, but he was trying not to smile.
I scanned his groceries while Mia regaled his kids with increasingly ridiculous stories about various breakfast cereals and their digestive effects. By the ti he left, all three children were laughing so hard they could barely walk.
"You’re good with kids," I told her.
"Kids are easy. They haven’t learned to be assholes yet." Mia slid off the counter. "Unlike adults, who seem to major in it."
My phone buzzed with a text. I glanced down, hoping for sothing—anything—interesting.
*Spam: Your car warranty is about to expire!*
Great. Even my phone was mocking .
"Ooh, is that a guy?" Mia peered over my shoulder. "Please tell you’re finally dating soone. You’re way too pretty to be single."
"It’s spam," I said, shoving the phone back in my pocket.
"Seriously? That’s it? Just spam?" She looked genuinely distressed by this information. "Sara, when was the last ti you went on a date?"
The question hit like a slap. "I’m not really dating right now," I said carefully.
"Why not?" She leaned against my register, studying like I was a puzzle she needed to solve. "Are you getting over soone? Bad breakup?"
*You could say that.*
"Sothing like that," I muttered.
"Oh honey." Her expression imdiately softened with sympathy. "Was he a total dick? Did he cheat? Please tell you at least keyed his car."
"It’s complicated."
"It’s always complicated. That’s what makes it fun!" Mia’s phone buzzed, and she imdiately perked up. "Ooh! Speaking of fun—Derek just texted. He wants to move our dinner up to four-thirty."
"Derek?"
"Tuesday Derek. Not to be confused with Friday Derek, who’s a completely different person." She was already typing back furiously. "Apparently his friend got last-minute tickets to so baseball thing."
I stared at her. "You have two different Dereks?"
"Three, technically, but Saturday Derek moved to Portland last month." She looked up from her phone. "Wait, did I never explain my system to you?"
"Your system?"
"My dating system! Oh my God, Sara, you’re going to love this." She tucked her phone away and turned to face fully. "Okay, so I have different guys for different days of the week. Monday is Jake—he’s super sweet, takes to nice restaurants, but kind of boring. Tuesday is Derek, who’s fun and spontaneous but terrible at texting back. Wednesday is Felix—"
"You have a guy for every day of the week?"
"Not Sunday! Sunday is ti. Self-care Sunday." She said this like it was perfectly normal.
"Mia!" Gary’s voice bood across the store. "Get back to your register!"
She made a face. "Duty calls. But we’re totally continuing this conversation later!"
The afternoon dragged by in the usual parade of cranky custors and broken price scanners. But I kept finding myself glancing over at Mia, watching her chat and laugh with everyone who ca through her line.
She made it look so easy. Life. Happiness. The ability to bounce from one thing to the next without drowning in regret or what-ifs.
Around three-thirty, she appeared at my register again, this ti looking slightly panicked.
"Sara! Thank God you’re not with a custor. I need the biggest favor in the history of favors."
"What now?"
"Derek moved our date up, rember? But I don’t get off until six, and Gary will literally murder if I ask to leave early again."
I raised an eyebrow. "Again?"
"Okay, so maybe I’ve been a tiny bit flexible with my schedule lately." She clasped her hands together like she was praying. "But this is different! Derek’s friend only has these tickets for tonight, and if I miss this, he’ll probably ask soone else next ti."
"And that would be bad because...?"
"Because Tuesday Derek is perfect! He’s fun but not too intense, spontaneous but not flaky, and he has this way of making laugh until I snort." Her eyes went wide with desperation. "Please tell you’ll cover the rest of my shift?"
I stared at her. "Mia, I covered for you yesterday when you had that ’dentist appointnt’ that lasted three hours."
"That was different! Felix surprised with tickets to that outdoor concert. How was I supposed to say no?" Mia grabbed my hands across the counter. "Please, Sara? I’ll pay you back sohow. I’ll work a double for you next week. I’ll bring you coffee every day for a month. I’ll—"
"Fine."
Her mouth fell open. "Really?"
"Really. But you owe big ti."
"Oh my God, you’re the best!" She launched herself around the counter to hug , nearly knocking over a display of travel-sized hand sanitizers.
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