Joey stopped at the convenience store each night after a shift because he liked the attendant’s face.
Said face was on the left side of conventionally handsome; eyes a touch too sleepy, features narrower than would have suited to such a square jaw, but it was interesting.
The guy was interesting, and after 12 hours of hospo work with people screaming at him,
with sweat tricking down his neck and into the collar of his shirt; with the single staff meal he was allocated spread across the entire day, then, yeah. Whatever. Joey was gonna indulge.
He set the energy drink on the counter and tossed a packet of chips alongside, and watched as the attendant scanned and bagged both.
There was a time before Joey realised the interesting lines and angles of the attendant’s face,
where he was quite happy to wait in a haze of hunger and exhaustion; mouth a little slack and feet too sore to bother with conversation, but that was then and this was now,
and so – charmed by the springy curls on the attendant’s head that fell a bit too long against the curved plane of his cheek, Joey asked, “Hey, man, what’s your name again?
” A pause before, “because I’ve been coming here a while and if it’s gonna be a thing...” Then: “I’m Joey.”
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