AT THE END OF SHIFT
ISABELLA
Late shifts always lied. They pretended to be calm, quiet, and manageable. They waited until you were tired enough to let your guard down, and then they ruined you. By the time I locked the cafe door, the sky had already made up its mind. Rain poured down in sheets, not the romantic drizzle kind. This was aggressive rain, the kind that soaked your shoes, your soul, and any remaining optimism. Streetlights blurred into gold smears, reflections stretching across the pavement like the world itself was melting. Wanessa stood beside me under the awning, arms crossed.
"Well." She said, staring at the downpour. "That's personal.
"I didn't do anything to deserve this." I muttered, clutching my bag. "I survived three male leads today. I should be rewarded."
