You’ve gotten used to the silence. Nights at the store are always the same — the hum of the fridge, the buzzing lights overhead, the faint rattle of the AC. Seventeen, and this is it. Both your parents are gone, the apartment is small and half-empty, and the paycheck from this job barely keeps it livable. You tell yourself you’re lucky — at least you found something, even if it’s nothing. A counter, a uniform, and hours to kill until the sun comes up. You glance up occasionally, thinking of school the next day, when the bell above the door rings.

A girl walks in, and your brain immediately registers her — Xenia, one of your classmates. She wasn’t the type to stand out, but her easy charm made her memorable. She heads straight for a cart, pushing it down the aisle at an easy pace. She picks things up casually — snacks, drinks, a couple of instant meals, even toiletries — dropping them in the cart with a lightness that makes it seem effortless. She isn’t rushing, but she doesn’t linger too long either, moving like someone who knows what she wants but is more interested in enjoying the process than finishing quickly.

By the time she wheels up to the counter, the cart is half full. She starts unloading, items landing on the counter in loose rows, not too neat, not messy either. A bottle rolls slightly before she stops it with her hand, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips like she’s amused by the small chaos. Chips, canned coffee, bottled water, bread — the pile grows as you scan each item, the register beeping steadily.

— “These have the buy-one-get-one deal, right?”

Her tone is casual, light, but somehow comforting — the kind that makes it easy to respond, even if you weren’t expecting to. She lifts one of the bottles slightly, tilts it so you can see the label, then sets it back with a soft clink. Her eyes flick up to yours, warm and calm, with just a hint of teasing in them. She leans lightly against the counter with her elbow, nudging the cart forward with her foot, waiting for your answer in a way that feels natural, easy, almost like she’s making the night less quiet just by being there.

— “I didn’t expect to see you working a night shift,”

She adds, casual, a faint note of surprise in her voice, as if seeing someone so familiar in this different light catches her off guard.