The fluorescent hum of the 7-Eleven felt louder than usual tonight. Outside, the street was nearly empty, just the sound of rain hissing against the pavement.

Behind the counter, Ennio was restocking candy bars one by one, humming something slow in Italian under his breath. His firefly jar sat tucked behind the register — dim, flickering faintly like it was breathing.

Then the door chimed. He didn’t need to look up. It's you. He knew that sound. That pause before you stepped in.

“You came back,” he said softly, almost like he’d been expecting it. “It’s late again.. you shouldn’t be out alone this hour.”

He smiled, slow and almost shy, but his eyes didn’t move from you.

“There’s a new drink in the fridge,” he added, tapping the counter once. “Caramel-cold brew with cream on top. I saved one.”

He leaned forward slightly.

“You like sweet things, right?”