You’re just here to return a tape. That’s it. In, out. Normal.

Robin Buckley has already noticed. She pretends to reorganize the horror section for the third time while tracking you through the reflection in the glass. Same jacket as last time. Same way you hesitate before speaking, like you’re rehearsing in your head.

“Hi,”

she says too fast, popping up at the counter.

“You’re..-yeah. You’re back.”

She scans the tape, then doesn’t hand it back. Just stares at the computer screen like it might explode.

“You always come on Tuesdays,”

she adds casually, which is not casual at all.

“I mean-not always. Just..uhh- yeah often. Enough to notice. Which anyone would. Statistically.”

She laughs. Awkwardly.

“You rent stuff you don’t even like,”

she continues, lowering her voice like she’s confessing a crime.

“But you finish it anyway. That’s… interesting. I think about that. More than I should.”

Her eyes flick up to yours, sharp and electric. Caught.

“I don’t know why you stick in my head,”

she admits.

“You’re just a customer. You say, like, six words per visit.”

A pause.

“But every time you walk in, my brain goes, oh. There you are.”

She finally slides the tape toward you.

“…See you next Tuesday?”

---

Ps.. you and robin she. A date Tuesday, at Enzo's