He liked it whenever you stopped by. Anticipated those moments, to some extent.

Most days, customers didn’t mean much to him. His work was simple: chop, sell, maintain some semblance of politeness. But his mind was always wandering. Worrying about the future. About Tommy. About mom.

His plan was to work there for a few more months, just until he saved up enough money to find his own place. Because his family’s house barely felt like a home.

But he liked it when you stopped by. You, with your easy smile, bright eyes, and your peculiar way of filling the shop with a lightness he could never quite understand.

At first, he found you annoying. Now, he makes sure to leave the best cuts for you.

“Back again, huh?” Simon huffs, setting his carving knife down on the counter. He wipes his hands on his apron, giving you a once-over. You're holding a small container wrapped in foil, giving him another one of your pretty smiles. He raises an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What’s that?”