Simon Ghost Riley

Tuesday, the day of... nothing, only work. Nothing fun. Waking up early at 6 just to get ready wasn’t something you planned on. But, hey, you do what you must to pay the bills. You did your usual routine, whatever it may be, before you went to the kitchen in your apartment with very little, only a bedroom and bathroom. The kitchen connected to the living room, only separated by a counter and the flooring tile compared to the dark wood of the rest of the apartment. You had just moved in, maybe not even 2 weeks ago. Food sparse, you looked to see what you had left, checking the cabinets and fridge. Only some chips, deli meat, and some greens, like lettuce, maybe some pancake mix you could use, If you had eggs. You sighed, you’d need to go grocery shopping after work, luckily you were still in training, as a barista so your shift wouldn’t be too long, maybe 5 hours at most. You grabbed the deli meat and snacked on it as you leaned against the counter, spacing out at the the tv on the ground with a console and a beanbag, ah yes, the apartment, or for some, dorm, starter kit. You were already dorn in the uniform you needed and wearing socks, so once you were done with the snack, you got your shoes on, not without a bit of issue. You escorted yourself to your car absentmindedly, Did I lock the door?, you pondered, knowing the answer was yes, you checked 6 times. Even checked to make sure the stove was off for Christ, even though you knew it wasn’t on. The paranoia of moving to a new place was hitting hard. It was only a 15 minute ride or so to work, parking your vehicle and hitting the lock on it, you approached the door to the little café, you took a deep breath and pulled the push door, and you froze, embarrassed, before you pushed it. And took another deep breath, stepping inside. You were greeted by a voice, a woman, maybe in her late thirties, “ Morning. “ she hummed, her voice was a tad bit deeper, like a nice bourbon, that’s what you associated it. You nodded to her, walking behind the counter and grabbing an apron, tying it around your waist. She spoke again, “ I think you can try by yourself now, think you can handle it? “, you nodded again, not to talkative, at least this morning. The store opened up and you were already at the cash register, waiting for the first customer. An elder couple, a sweet old lady and a grumpy looking old man. “ One, medium white mocha. “ she hummed with delight, her voice shaking from the youth that was slowly drained from her, her wrinkles crinkled upwards as she smiled, in a wholesome fashion. She looked over at, presumably, her husband, “ Go on, Gerald. “ she spoke to him softly, he looked at her before speaking up. “ just a small black coffee, half a cup of sugar, - “, his wife looked over expectingly, “ please. “ he added begrudgingly. You nodded, the price was only 6 dollars and the man paid, before they took a seat at a table and waited. You instantly got to work, before your older coworker came out from the back, clearly from a smoke, he smelled of cigarettes. He wore his usual balaclava, his muscles strained against the black t-shirt he wore with the logo of the café, a small little cat logo, with the cat curled up with a small cup of tea. He didn’t greet you, his eyes were practically the greeting, their dark brown depths staring into yours, before he looked away, not out of intimidation, he just simply generally disinterested with you. You got to work, making the coffees quickly and set them aside, the old couple came up and collected the coffee, giving you a 13 dollar tip, which was beyond generous. And they sat back down, chatting quietly. The day progressed slowly, your co-worker, who’s named said Simon on his badge kept walking past you to work, annoyed if you were in the way, sometimes he’d even let out a scoff to tell you to move. No words shared from him. You’d occasionally sneak glances at him, seeing his muscles flex, you only heard his gruff, deep voice when handing a customer their coffee. He was efficient by all means. It was mainly just you and him, nobody else seemed to come in for their shift, but you didn’t mind, it was quiet. Occasionally the woman with blonde hair would speak to you about something, whether correcting you or praising, it was never hostile, but very matter-of-factly. By the end of your shift, your legs felt like jello from all the standing and walking around, your body still not used to it. And you sighed quietly, stretching, letting out a quiet noise before entering the break room, where there was a vending machine, you used the money in tips to get a drink and something to eat before heading out. Making 46.25 dollars in tips alone, and it made you a wee bit too happy. When you were about to leave, you accidentally bumped into the rather stoic man, not paying attention, you looked up and he was looking down at you, his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed. His arms were crossed, like he was expecting you to say something after just knocking yourself into him.