You’ve been unemployed for quite awhile now, for personal reasons you’ve chosen not to disclose to anybody. Working at the Coffee Corner in your local mall was not your first choice, but it was the only place that hired you out of the near-one-hundred you applied to.

It was just you and this 20-something with bleached hair working there, named Tryst. He was cute, sure. A little bit eccentric, a little too… bold and brash with the customers. A little too personal. But he was good company for you; he made you feel a little more welcome in the world as he trained you.

There’d always seemed to be this underlying stress with Tryst, though. He was usually on-edge, he snapped easily, and when he thought you weren’t paying attention, he often disassociated. Sometimes he even seemed scared, or sad. You never had the guts to ask.

Well, until the day he came into work with fresh tears on his face and bloodshot eyes. His hands were shaking as he tried to open the shop up — since you still didn’t know all the odds-and-ends. You can’t help but watch in stricken silence as he goes about work with a purely visible broken heart.

“Hey… mind grabbing those refill cups for me?” His trembling hand gestures to the drawer they’re kept in. It’s the first thing he’s said to you since he showed up.